


His Little Bird

by TheWanderersWanderingDaughter



Series: His Little Bird [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dark, Dark Draco, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Forced Kiss, Imperius, Imperiused Sex, Manipulation, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Molestation, Mutilation, Obsession, Ownership, Possessive Behavior, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secrets, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 80,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderersWanderingDaughter/pseuds/TheWanderersWanderingDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birds should be watched and not kept, but Draco never was one to obey rules. It's their sixth year. Draco still hates Hermione, but finds he's becoming obsessed with her.</p><p>"Have you ever read any of those fairytale books as a child?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "The dragons always hoard beautiful things like gems and gold and princesses. Well, pet," he said, leaning in closer still, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke, "you're my princess."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This fic and its sequel do not entirely follow HP Books 6 or 7. I own nothing related to Harry Potter. This is a dark story. This story will contain non-consensual situations and psychopathic behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter.

Miss Hermione Granger was no fool. Top marks, vast knowledge on seemingly everything, and a good reputation, she had it all. She wasn't called 'the brightest witch of her age' for nothing.

So then why could she not put her finger on her problem at the moment? The echoing clatter of her light footsteps radiated through the grand yet ancient halls of Hogwarts. It was the week before school began, and she, Harry, and Ron had been sent a request via owl by Dumbledore to pack up and come to Hogwarts a week early. He would not be there himself, the note had specified, but most of the school staff would. In the meantime, they were free to make themselves at home. That they had, she thought with a small smile as she hopped lightly over a puddle on the cobblestoned floor. They had pored over a great number of books in the library-or at least she had, the boys had gazed out the window at the Quidditch field, longing evident in their eyes. They would have gone out to practice but the entire week they had been there it had been raining. Hard, relentless pouring accompanied by a symphony of thunderclaps and some spectacular shows of lightning as well. Not to mention the harsh winds. Harry and Ron would have no problem walking through the grounds but seeing as she was quite a bit smaller and lighter than they were she'd have to put up a good resistance against it.

The weather had dampened their spirits, but they decided to hang about inside instead. Reading, exploring the empty classrooms, playing Wizards Chess and Exploding Snap and when the gloominess really got to them, they would sit at the Gryffindor Common Room fire over steaming mugs of tea (courtesy of the House Elves) they would talk about the approaching war, or try to devise strategies to take down Voldemort's growing regime.

 _So far we have nothing,_ she thought dimly as she turned round a corner. _But that mustn't make us lose our focus,_ she resolved as she reached her destination.

There it was, the portrait that led into the Head Boy and Head Girls' Common Room. Of course, she knew she was a shoe in as Head Girl. She had kept track of all the other girls' marks and none of theirs came within spitting distance of hers.

When it came to her grades, Hermione was quite vain, to be honest. They were perfect, and showed her intelligence. Her peers had made fun of her in the past over her extreme studiousness but that didn't matter to her, as long as she had her goals in mind.

Hermione could feel it, this was _her_ room. Put her hand on the picture of the beautiful night scenery and _ah_ , it felt so right. No one had worked as hard as she to gain the position. The only thing that stumped her was who the Head Boy would be. She'd no idea who the boy with the highest marks was. Certainly not Harry or Ronald. Though she would prefer it were to be one of them, but alas, every effort she'd made to get them to work was in vain. A small crease appeared between her brows. She knew Neville had made an astounding improvement in his classes (all thanks to Luna, she thought with a smirk), there was that boy in Hufflepuff who she heard had good marks, but she wasn't sure if he'd graduated or not. A niggling suspicion crawled up her spine; she realized with a jolt Malfoy had good grades as well. Or at least only in Potions, as far as she was aware. No matter. She doubted it would be him, anyway. With a last, longing look at the portrait she turned, her long brown curls swishing heavily over her shoulder and left towards the Great Hall. It was nearly suppertime, and Professor Dumbledore was due to arrive today.

* * *

 

Hermione entered the Great Hall, immediately spotting her best friends at the Gryffindor table.

"'Ermione! Where 'ave 'ou been?" Ron asked around a large mouthful of steak. Harry looked up from his plate, flashing a grin at Hermione, who smiled back and crinkled her nose at Ron.

"I've been walking around, reflecting on things." She replied with a vague wave of her hand. "Ronald, how many times must I tell you not to talk with food in your mouth? Honestly!" Even as she scolded him, she couldn't help but smile as she sat next to Harry. Ron looked apologetic as he heaped some steak onto his plate. Harry laughed and turned to Hermione.

"Reflecting on what?" he inquired. "Is it about the Head Boy again?" Hermione bit her lip and nodded as she began to fill her plate. Harry shook his head, placing his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Don't stress out about it, whoever it is I'm sure he'll be great." And with that he returned his attention to his pie. Hermione scanned the staff table as she ate some lentil soup. Professor McGonagall was in a conversation with Professor Sprout and Hagrid, who caught her eye and waved. She smiled and waved back, and turned back to her soup. Harry and Ron were now devouring their deserts while maintaining an ongoing debate on which Quidditch team was better. Shaking her head, Hermione stared at her plate. Suddenly she felt very nervous. Ron had noticed and was about to ask her what was wrong when an owl swooped in and dropped a small note at Hermione's plate.

"Who's it from?" He pointed at the note. Hermione opened it. Scanning its contents, she replied, "It's from Dumbledore! He wants to speak to me about the Head Girl position." Rushing out of her seat, she almost tripped over the bench. She called out a hasty good-by and set on her way to the Headmasters' office, smiling to herself. A light skip in her step, she ascended the main entrance stairs that led to the second floor. The torches lined against the wall, casting a soft glow on the ancient statues and suits of armor that inhabited the halls of Hogwarts.

The large, swollen passageways normally held hundreds of students as they swarmed to get to their next class, but on this night, they only held the brilliant, formidable witch as she navigated to her destination.

Or was it really only her?

The fine hairs on her arms suddenly stood at ends and her skin prickled. Someone was watching her.

She was a bit nervous to look around, but in the end, was she a Gryffindor or not? So she turned, sweeping those intelligent eyes around the empty space before her. There was nothing. Didn't mean there wasn't anyone there, though. Hogwarts was always full of surprises, and there were plenty of large objects one could hide behind around her.

"Who's there?" She called out. Silence rang in her ears. She turned, and eyed the space around her warily before moving on. The sensation had gone, and she needed to get on her way anyway.

Hermione Granger was never late.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had just arrived at Hogwarts, peeling off his rain-sodden clothing and changing into a fresh pair of robes. That damned rain. It had rained all this past week, holing him up inside his Manor. He'd been fine with it for the first day or two, but after the third day, his body had been screaming for action. He played Quidditch daily-just by himself. He'd fly around his home, chasing after the Snitch his father had bought him his second year. But it had rained and it had rained hard, just as much as it was still raining now. His mother had prohibited him from taking one step outside, fearing for his safety. And then the Headmaster had requested him to come a few days early to Hogwarts on Head Boy business; he'd been secretly happy to get away from his Manor. He had been sent a Portkey, but it had only been able to take him as far as the school gates, where he had been received by the sour-faced Filch, who seemed to be secretly pleased that the Malfoy boy in all his fine clothing was wet to the bone and very cross indeed.

He'd entered the Slytherin Common Room and went to the boys dorms, not bothering to unpack his trunks; he would be moving into the Head Dorms anyway, so what was the point?

Draco had been just about to summon a House Elf for a cup of tea when the note had arrived at his window. The silly owl outside his window was drenched; as soon as he'd untied the paper it had slogged off in a watery flight to the Owlery. The note was from Dumbledore, requesting his presence in his office shortly. Groaning, he threw the note into the fire, where it landed with a loud pop and a sizzle, slipped on his shoes and went on his way.

Draco Malfoy was no fool, and did not have to wonder who the Head Girl would be. Who else but Granger? No other girl at this school studied as hard as she did. Countless times he'd shove past her in the library, her pert nose buried in another ancient tome. How many times had the little chit beat him in their exams, even by a mere few points? Give her any question and no matter the difficulty she would rattle off an answer. The girl was dedicated, he'd give her that. He was loath to admit it, but she really was the brightest witch anyone would ever meet.

He suddenly remembered with a small grimace, his first year. His father had paid a surprise visit in December, to check on him. He'd snuck into one of his classes, where Granger had answered every question at lightning speed and had earned her house a boatload of points for performing a simple charm correctly. He hadn't noticed his father standing just in front of the door, barely visible, watching the girl with a bright glint in his eye.

_After that class, his father had pulled him aside, to his immense surprise. They had walked into an empty classroom, his father inquiring about his classes and grades. He'd answered politely, talking positively about his classes, albeit in a bored tone._

_His father had his back turned to him, facing a chart on the wall depicting the top students. Malfoy had sat there at a desk, wondering if the interview was over when his father turned around suddenly._

_"Tell me, son, who was that girl in your class? The one with the strange hair."_

_Draco frowned. "Granger?"_

_His father frowned slightly. "Is that her name?"_

_"No, it's H-Hermione." Her first name sounded alien and strange on his tongue. He'd never said it before. "Hermione Granger."_

_His father had repeated her name, sounding out the syllables and vowels like he was reading it from a dictionary. Draco had thought this very odd. "Her-mi-o-ne Granger. Tell me, Draco. What is this girl like?"_

_Draco had found this an odd question, but hastened to reply. "She's rather intelligent, I suppose. Always with her nose in a book, she practically lives in the library. She always beats me in every exam, and she's very bossy. Can never shut her trap, either. Always prattling on about something or another."_

_His father was listening very keenly, looking at Draco with an odd look in his face. "You don't like her then," he said flatly. Draco had almost jumped out of his seat with shock and rage._

_"Like her? Why on earth would I like her? Big teeth and horrible hair, she never stops bossing people around, and thinks she's better than everyone. Always prancing about with Potter and Weasely and they never get in trouble. They have all the Professors wrapped around their fingers."_

_His father had turned back to the wall. "A Gryffindor then? And is friends with the Potter boy. Interesting indeed…"_

_Draco, who had just recovered his breath from his rant, added, "She's Muggleborn, too."_

_That certainly had caught his father's attention. He'd stopped his musings, real disappointment showing on his handsome, regal face._

_"A Muggleborn? Are you sure?" Draco nodded, confused. His father cast a mysterious look at the door, where students were still passing by outside to their classes. "What a pity. Such a good candidate, too."_

_Now little Draco had been confused. What was his father going on about? "Candidate for what, father?" His father looked at him, the trademark Malfoy smirk gracing his handsome face._

_"Why, my boy, surely you must know! The future Lady Malfoy is somewhere in this castle! Such a shame Miss Granger is Mudblood, such a shame. She'll be quite a beauty in a few years' time, and intelligence in a Malfoy Lady is a must, son. Don't go after the brainless ones. The smart ones give more of a challenge." He clapped his son on the shoulder and swept from the room, and an eleven year old Draco Malfoy had stood in the empty Transfiguration classroom, shivering with disgust at the thought of marrying Granger._

Back in the present, Draco rose up the stairs from the dungeons where the Slytherin Common Room was hidden. Lost in his thoughts, he'd continued onward until he heard small, determined footsteps coming his way. He knew who it was, so he hid behind a thick pillar and scanned his eyes along the corridor until he found her.

Granger.

Her lips were curved upwards the tiniest bit; those damned brown curls were cascading down her back and shoulders, swaying gently as she walked. That pale face shone in the shadows and light cast by the torches on the walls. Her muggle attire caught his attention and irritated him until he remembered he was wearing muggle clothing as well, but at least they were hidden under his robes. He knew when she suddenly sensed him. She turned around; calling out to whomever was there, grasping her wand, slight discomfort etched into her face. He found the situation they were in delicious, she not knowing he was there. He would have stayed to toss her a hex or two maybe cast a Disillusionment charm over himself and frighten her a bit, but he had matters to attend to.

Draco Malfoy was never late.


	2. An Unexpected Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Head Boy/Girl position is only for one year. Well not in this story! All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.

 

Hermione skidded to a stop, having slipped on peculiarly slimy puddle. Panting, she leaned against the wall; the entrance to Dumbledore's office was just a few doors down. She was glad she didn't fall. She straightened her skirt and with a huff, turned on her heel, walking straight into something very solid in the process.

"Oof!" she grunted, losing her footing again, grasping at whatever was in front of her so she wouldn't fall. It was someone's' chest, she realized with a jolt, a male, she could tell, from the lack of…

Her hands inched upwards slowly. The fabric she was holding onto was expensive, no doubt, it felt soft and silky under her touch. Her eyes flew up to the strangers' face, an apologetic smile on her lips. Her smiled died quickly once she caught sight of who stood before her.

"Are you done feeling me up, Granger? I know I'm quite handsome, but I think you've sullied my robes enough; see, your dirty hands have stained it already." Draco Malfoy drawled, glaring at Hermione, raising his eyebrows at her hands still grabbing at his fine cloak.

Cheeks flaming, Hermione released him at once.

"Don't presume, Malfoy, I tripped and you know it. The day I voluntarily put my hands on you will be the day Voldemort decides he loves Harry." Hermione snapped. He only smiled smugly, as if taunting her. "Now get out of my way and let me pass."

He crossed his arms. His smile grew broader.

"I sense you're in a hurry."

"Oh, good observation! What gave me away?"

"Your lack of manners, for one," he said haughtily. "You could have knocked me over, you know, and I've heard no apology yet."

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Did I injure you?"

"Aside from the frankly lewd way you groped me, no."

"I did not grope you!" She was blushing again. He laughed.

"Look at you, red as can be."

"Are you finished having your fun?"

"I could keep going, Granger. You still haven't given me your apology."

"Oh, like you really care."

"You're right," he said. "I'll accept that silly blush as one. It's good enough to watch you squirm."

She glared at him. "Will you let me pass or will I have to make you?"

"Don't play at threats, Granger," he had suddenly shifted in attitude, from amusement to grave seriousness. "Don't make me laugh."

"You were laughing when I punched you."

She needed no further context; they both knew exactly the moment she referred to. His eyes turned glacial.

"I won't apologize for that," she said. "You deserved it, and I enjoyed it."

"I didn't want your apology," he said coldly. The corner of his lip lifted-sneer or smile? Hermione wished she knew what it meant.

When he said nothing in reply she walked past him a few steps and he let her, but before she'd even got far he spoke again, forcing her to turn.

"You have an appointment with the Headmaster."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Yes."

He had not looked away from her. Hermione fought not to back away. He nodded, breaking eye contact at last to look to the side as if in resignation, but his jaw was tight and his eyes still angry.

Without warning, he moved forward, and instead of walking around her, he walked directly into her instead, and she, not having expected it, was pushed into the wall abruptly, narrowly missing striking her head against it.

He said not a word, didn't even look back. Hermione couldn't believe the pettiness of the act.

Oh. Now he was in for it.

Before he could utter the first syllable to the password, Draco's head snapped back, his right cheek on fire. Hand on his cheek, he looked down incredulously to where the angry witch stood before him, chest heaving with anger, fire in her eyes. The hand that had struck him was still in the air, as if she were considering doing it again.

Jabbing her finger into his chest, she hissed, "You pompous _slime!_ Being Pure Blood does not give you the right to manhandle others or think yourself above anyone else! There's plenty room in this corridor for you to walk around!"

If Hermione had noticed the murderous glint in his eyes she would have lowered her voice and halted her assault but no. No. She was furious. She didn't even notice when Draco whipped out his wand and with his other hand, caught her wrists until the fact that she couldn't move her arms hit her and she looked up, scowling.

Before she knew it, she'd been slammed into the cold, damp wall. Hissing in pain, she struggled to free herself from his grasp.

"Let go-!" She couldn't finish her sentence. Draco's wand was digging into her throat. She could feel the tip begin to heat up, burning her skin and she had to bite back a pained cry. She'd expected yelling, threats, even a jinx or two, but not this. He was holding her arms above her, pinned to the cold stone with one hand, pressing his body into hers against the wall, preventing escape.

There were his eyes, cold and hateful, boring into her and his full lips curled into a sneer so close to her face. His hands were digging into her delicate wrists painfully but she refused to cry out.

He looked at her in those few seconds, and vaguely realized how his father had been right. Granger had transformed. The first obvious sign was in Fourth Year, the moment she'd walked into the room and had stunned everyone, including him. The bushy hair was brushed into submission, now a soft mass of gentle curls and waves. Those beaver's teeth he had teased her relentlessly about were not so large anymore; he could easily tell by the way she had just bared them at him. Their bodies were nearly pressed together; he chanced a look down, his cool eyes slowly taking in the curves that were not hidden by her bulky robe, which had unclasped. She was certainly nicer looking than she had been five years prior.

His eyes darted back up to meet hers. There was intense dislike mingled with the tiniest bit of fear in her eyes. She had noticed his appraisal. Pale cheeks burned with the intensity of her blush from his close scrutiny. The anger sparked in her eyes, wrinkling her brow, and he caught himself thinking just how much more attractive the anger made her.

However, being pretty was no excuse for her being a Mudblood, and therefore, being lower than him. Than dirt even. This little bitch was the bane of his existence, along with Potter and Weasley. He itched to hex her, maybe even push her around a bit. Give her a good fright. She needed to learn her place.

"What are you staring for?" she snapped, finding her voice at last. "Let me go!"

She wriggled in his grasp, wincing against the tip of his wand which still dug into her white throat. Her body brushed against his and while she, in her haste to be free didn't notice, he did, and discovered quite grumpily that he rather liked the sensation. But that was it. He immediately became disgusted with himself. She wriggled again, trying to yank her wrists out of his hold, spitting out more insults all the while. For all her bravado, however, she jumped quite violently and ceased all struggles when he slammed his palm beside her head on the cold wall. He leaned in close and she regarded him with wary eyes, pressing herself back into the wall.

" _Do. Not. Touch. Me._ Understand?"

Still scowling, she did not answer his demand. Her eyes were narrowed, jaw set firmly, but he could sense the unease radiating through her. Something in him began to swell with pride, knowing he had power over the situation. Just as quickly he willed it back down. For Merlin's sake, this was _Granger_ he was thinking of. Holding her angry gaze for a while longer, he let her go without warning, watching as she slid down the wall a little. He hadn't realized he'd lifted her off her feet. Nor did he care.

"You're Head Boy." She said in an accusing tone, rubbing her wrists.

"Well spotted, Granger. How long did that take you?"

He recited the password to the gargoyle guarding the entrance with a roll of his eyes. "Bertie Botts'." He swept into the little passage room as the gargoyle leapt aside and began to climb up the stairs leading into the Headmasters' office. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around.

"Of course, one needn't ask you."

He reached up and knocked on the door.

"Someone's got to keep you in check, after all." She rubbed at her wrists resentfully. "You for a roommate. How lucky."

Malfoy seemed to abhor the idea as much as she. "If I'd known I would have been picked along with you, believe me, I'd have failed everything on purpose."

"For all you know there's still time. Nothing is stopping you from doing it."

"No," he said, giving her a strange smile. "I'll stay on. I know how angry this makes you. You were right. I do enjoy it."

The door opened before she could answer. They entered the room. Hermione decided to let her anger rest and wrestled her way inside, seeing as Malfoy had tried to shut her out. She stared in awe around the room. She'd been in here several times before but it never failed to impress her. Crowded around several shelves lining the walls were both magical and muggle items, several of which she recognized, others she had no idea what they were.

Fawkes gave a soft, lovely cry at their entrance. She went to him immediately and stroked his feathers. The phoenix nuzzled her hand, and she smiled.

Professor Dumbledore had stood from his desk and shaken Malfoy's hand and now shook Hermione's with a warm smile.

"Welcome back, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy. Please take a seat. I hope you both arrived safely and without trouble."

"Yes, Professor," Malfoy said, cutting over Hermione, who'd also begun to speak.

"I am glad to hear it." The wizened Headmaster sat at his desk and joined his hands to form a steeple. "You both recieved a letter some weeks ago, along with a badge."

They both nodded.

"It is no secret there is an unsavory history between the two of you and your acquaintances." He peered at them studiously over the rims of his spectacles. "I am hoping, however, that these differences can be resolved, or even set aside in the hope of achieving unity and setting an example for the rest of the school. Does that seem fair?"

"...Yes, Professor."

Satisfied, the Headmaster reached into a crystal bowl of candies on his desk and popped one into his mouth. He gestured for them to follow suit. Neither moved.

"Your duties will encourage communication and teamwork, as well as spending time together."

"What if we prefer working alone, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded, as if he'd expected Malfoy to bring that up.

"You may do so outside any Head Boy duties. When the occasion calls, however, I expect the both of you to work as one. Understood?"

Malfoy looked highly displeased.

"Perfectly."

"Now, in normal circumstances we do not ask the Head students to come before the term begins," Dumbledore said, picking through the assortment of jelly beans in his palm. "These are special circumstances, I believe. Thus I have called the two of you here in advance to test the waters, to put it lightly, and see how well you get along and establish a relationship, be it as friends, unless you choose to keep things strictly professional."

Hermione stole a glance at Malfoy. His face was blank.

"We will try our best, Professor," she said.

"Thank you for the opportunity, sir," Malfoy said, his voice as expressionless as his face.

"Excellent, excellent." Dumbledore stood, went and offered a treat to Fawkes, who seemed a little wary of the bright green jellybean. Dumbledore chuckled and put it back in his pocket.

"I know this will not be easy for you," he said to the two students. "It may take time for you to become used to the arrangement, but I have faith my two brightest students will find a way to make it work."

"Here's hoping, sir," Hermione muttered. The Headmaster chuckled.

"The two of you are very likely to learn from each other. I believe the exposure may benefit you both."

"That's unlikely," Malfoy said snidely as Dumbledore escorted them to the door.

"Do not be so sure so soon, Draco," Dumbledore said, smiling. "But if problems do arise, I request that I be informed. We shall work through this together."

Hermione could feel Malfoy's unspoken reply.

 _Like hell we will_.

* * *

 

The crackling noise of the fire lulled Harry into a peaceful state, allowing him to set his mind on the current task at hand.

Ron, on the other hand, was serious and alert, staring at the Wizard's chessboard as if he meant to set it on fire under his intense gaze. He issued a command to his knight, who walked across the board and smashed Harry's queen.

"Checkmate." Ron grinned, easing back into his chair. Harry scowled.

"Fancy another go?" Ron began to set up all the pieces again, ignoring Harry's half -hearted protests. This would be their fourth match. He'd beaten Harry in every single one.

He was about to make his first move when a loud slam made them jump. Turning around, he nearly fell when he saw Hermione stalk into the Common Room, shoulders slumped in defeat. She stopped in front of them and sat down, letting out a huge frustrated breath.

Harryband Ron exchanged a glance. "What is it?"

She pushed her hair away from her face, eyes serious and ruminating.

"Malfoy has been chosen as Head Boy."

"What the fuck." Ron stood from his seat. "Really?"

"He didn't pull any strings, if that's what you're wondering. Won the position fair and square. I should have known, really. We usually get the same grades in everything. Merlin. I'm supposed to live in the same dorm with Malfoy for the next two years!" she ground out, her eyes narrowed into furious slits.

Harry, over the shock, reached out and gently grasped her shoulder.

"Hermione, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. Malfoy's probably going to make it hell for you. Just request to dorm somewhere else?" Hermione, who had placed her head in her hands, shook her head, curls bouncing.

"I did, Harry. Dumbledore said no, that we need to show House Unity and things like that. And Malfoy already is making it hell, he pushed me into the wall earlier," she griped, and then realized her error. They looked at her wrists, seeing the forming bruises, and launched out of their chairs. Hermione's eyes widened in worry and exasperation.

"No- Leave it! Harry! Ron! It was nothing, he's not worth it!" she called, but it was too late. Harry and Ron were already heading out the portrait door. Hermione swore and raced after them, shouting at them to calm down. They reached the Head Common Room in record time; Hermione, still shouting after them.

"What's the password?" Harry asked, panting for breath. Hermione shook her head.

"Don't overreact, Harry, Ron, it's not like he tried to kill me. Let's just go, I got him back for it, anyway." Not satisfied with her response, they insisted. She was ready to take out her wand and drag them back to the Gryffindor Common Room when the portrait door opened, and Malfoy stepped out.

Everyone paused.

Draco took one step outside and immediately noticed Potter and Weasley standing there with enraged faces. Granger was tugging on their sleeves, pleading with them to 'forget about it.' He saw Harry looking at her mangled wrists, and rolled his eyes.

 _So she tattled_.

"I assume you're here to defend her honor or some tripe like that," he said drily.

The Weasel took one step towards him, whipping his wand out in the process.

"You're an arse, Malfoy!" He said before he sent a Stinging Hex at Draco's face. The hex was absorbed into the shield Draco had thrown up.

"Weak strategy, Weaselbee, spend practically an hour forcing those words out of that wide mouth of yours and then go for the hex? You're as predictable as they come."

Ron's face reddened, and he threw a Disarming charm at Draco, who blocked it again.

"Granger, how can you stand to hang about this idiot all day? Crabbe's got bigger brains than this one," he asked sarcastically. Hermione glared at him, still pulling Harry back (with monumental effort, it seemed), who was fighting to draw out his own wand.

Ron yelled as Draco's hex opened a small gash on his cheek and blood began to leak from it. Hermione flinched; she'd hoped they wouldn't resort to this kind of violence.

 _"Stop it!_ You're acting like children!" She shouted. She couldn't let go of Harry. She'd taken his wand and pocketed it, just to be sure.

Ron looked at her for a second, seeming to remember she was there. At that moment, Draco sent another little slash onto his shoulder, tearing through his Muggle shirt.

"Keep your mouth shut, Mudblood," Draco snarled, and then it all went to hell.

Harry tore out of her hold, snatched his wand back, and both he and Ron began their attack. Hexes and spells flew around, lighting up the dim hall with spectacular colors. Hermione tried to pull them away again and again, all while screaming at them to stop, but they were too engaged in the battle to pay her attention.

Which is why when she stood in front of Ron and pushed at his chest, one of Draco's spells hit her and she fell.

The three boys stopped fighting immediately, looking dumbly down at the fallen girl. She was slumped over Ron's shoes, her eyes shut and her mouth set in a grimace of pain.

"What spell did you hit her with?" Harry spat at Malfoy as he knelt over his best friend.

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly. "Haven't the faintest."

Harry and Ron gaped at him in horror. "How the hell do you not know what spell you used?" Harry hissed. Ron lunged at him. "You foul, slimy git!"

Malfoy aimed and shouted, "Repulso!" and Ron went flying, crashing into the wall.

"Enough!" Harry yelled, hissed aimed at him.

They stood, aiming at each other for several seconds in tense silence, but at last Potter put his down, and Malfoy followed only once he had seen Potter's wand tucked away. Curious, he stood over Granger. She looked to be in a deep sleep but he scanned the rest of her quickly to make sure no further damage had been done.

"Potter! Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall strode into the space, her face slack with shock as she perceived Hermione on the floor, a semi-unconscious Ron against the wall, and Harry and Draco kneeling beside Hermione. "Explain yourselves at once!"

"Ron, Malfoy and I got into a fight, Professor, Hermione was trying to stop us, and Malfoy hit her with a spell." Harry winced, waiting for the Professor's tirade. The aged Professor's mouth tightened and she fixed her sharp, reprimanding gaze on the three of them. Harry and Ron immediately looked sheepish, Draco stared back coolly.

"Potter, you're coming with me. Take Mr Weasley and Miss Granger to Poppy." She glared at them over her glasses.

Ron stood up, shaking his head. "No, Professor, I'm fine. Just a few cuts and bruises."

McGonagall nodded curtly before approaching Hermione, whom Harry had propped up into a sitting position, letting her lean against him. "Is she alright?"

"Yes, Professor. Malfoy says he doesn't know what spell he hit her with," Harry replied, and the elder woman's shoulders dropped slightly in relief.

Professor McGonagall turned to glare at Draco. "Malfoy, I hope I can trust you to take Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing without causing her further harm?" It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

Draco cursed inwardly. "Yes, Professor."

She nodded. "Really, I expected better from all of you, especially considering the honor you have been given with the Head Boy position, Malfoy." Glaring at Draco, she said, "We will discuss your punishment once you return from the Hospital Wing in my office," and she whisked away. Harry and Ron left with her, Ron seemed to regret saying he was okay now that he realized he had left Hermione alone with the enemy. He kept throwing murderous glares at Draco as he walked away.

Draco sighed heavily, looking down at the girl on the floor. He hesitated, then thrust one arm under her legs and another under her back and picked her up quite easily. He set off at a brisk pace, not caring that he was jostling her. Her curls danced over his arms and tangled in his fingers. He absently rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. For a second he entertained the thought of pulling the lock of hair clean out of her head to see if she would wake, but then again he'd have a furious Head Girl and an extremely irate Professor, so he decided he had better not.

"Damn you, Granger," he muttered, "Always have to butt in and make things worse, don't you?" He must have looked a fool, speaking to a girl who was clearly in no state to hear him. She gave a small shuddery breath and leaned into him, her face pressed against his chest. His skin crawled, this was too much. Her breath gently blew into his face as she exhaled.

Lavender. She smelled like lavender. And a slight hint of chamomile. He was instantly reminded of how his mother had an herb garden at the Manor, how she would cut sprigs of fragrant herbs and tuck them into vases and arrange them around the Manor.

Granger pressed her face into his chest, unconsciously murmuring something he couldn't quite catch. This was getting embarrassing. How vulnerable one became while asleep...

 _Dirty little fool_ , he thought. Her lips were rubbing against the fabric on his chest and it stirred something inside of him. He wanted to dump her on the floor and go take a scalding bath. Suddenly he couldn't get to the Hospital Wing fast enough.

However long it felt to him, he made it there quickly enough and pushed the doors open as best as one can when carrying someone else in their arms, and loudly called for the prime occupant. Madame Pomfrey came in, asked him the usual questions, he explained everything, save for the part where he was the one who hit her with the spell. He laid her down--not very gently-onto a cot and turned to leave.

"Wait a moment, Mister Malfoy! She'll be right as rain in a minute, but when she comes to she won't be able to move her limbs for about an hour or so as result of your handiwork. She'll be needing someone to carry her to her dorm."

"In which case, she should stay here until she is recovered," Draco suggested impatiently. He had had enough of this girl for one day. But there was no use. Madame Pomfrey was going to leave the school for the night due to a family emergency, so she wouldn't be able to attend to 'Miss Granger.'

Madame Pomfrey returned with a small vial and tipped it down Granger's throat, abruptly leaving afterwards. After a few seconds she began to wake. Draco scowled at the stirring girl on the cot.

 _Damn you over and over_ , he cursed.

"What are you doing here?" Was the first thing that came out of her mouth. It was supposed to come out in a sharper tone, but she was so groggy she whispered it. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

Malfoy looked at her, clearly irritated. "Well, if you would have preferred I leave you there, you could have asked."

She blushed lightly. "Well you are the one who hexed me in the first place." Shaking her head to clear the last traces of fogginess from her mind, Hermione tried to get up and off the stiff bed.

Only, she couldn't.

"Malfoy, why can't I move?" It was meant to sound calm but the panic could be heard clearly in her voice. She couldn't move! She tried and tried but her limbs were not responding. "What did you do to me?"

Draco let out an impatient sigh. "It's an after effect of the potion, Granger, do try to keep up. It'll go away, but I'm supposed to take you to your dorms. Don't look at me like that; as if I'd want to carry you, but McGonagall will have my head if I don't. I'm already in enough trouble as it is, all thanks to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yes, Malfoy it's my fault you got into a fight all on your own. So very sorry."

Malfoy came to her side, pretending to look thoughtful. "Hm, I don't think an apology will cut it for now, Granger. That's the second time today, isn't it? I have a feeling there are more coming. But this will have to do." He swooped down and picked her up, throwing her none too gently over his strong shoulder.

Hermione shrieked. If she were able she would have kicked him as hard as he could to get back down, but there was no hope for it, seeing as her arms felt as if they'd fallen asleep. The movement set off a wave of unpleasantness through her nerves. She gasped as she felt something on her rear.

"Get your slimy hands off my arse, Malfoy, or when I can move my hands again you'll find you have none!"

Draco chuckled, sliding his hands off of her bum. She was not lacking there, he noticed. "Just a bit of fun, Granger."

"Yes, well your idea of fun is very different from mine," she huffed. "And I don't care to be groped by fools like you."

"Careful, Granger, I might just drop you."

"That would be an improvement," she mumbled angrily.

He slipped her back down into his arms, hooking one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. She glared up at him, one arm dangling uselessly down her side, the other still slung around his neck.

"Pray tell, Mudblood, where exactly am I to take you? The Gryffindor Common Room or our place?" He wanted to laugh at the face she made when he said 'our'.

"I don't want to face Harry and Ron right now, and I can't have you learning the location or password to the Gryffindor dorms, so it will have to be the latter. And I thought you were past calling me a Mudblood." She said, trying to sound indifferent.

"Granger. Let me make this clear. I may be carrying you to your dorms, but I'm not doing it willingly. We're going to be sharing living quarters for the remaining two years here. We are not going to become bosom friends. I don't care for you at all, and despite our Headmaster's hearty suggestions, I have no intention of knowing you better than I do now."

Hermione tried to hide the hurt in her eyes. She couldn't ignore the disappointment she felt either. He was still and would always be a pretentious, pureblooded pig. She had been a fool to entertain the thought that perhaps, seeing as they would be seeing a lot of each other from that moment on, they could agree to tone down the hostility, and perhaps learn to cope with each other. That surely was out the window now. She broke her eyes away from his, sticking her chin out so as to not let him see it tremble. It was stupid of her, to think they could form a truce, no matter how small. It was too much to ask for. Did Dumbledore know what he was doing, placing them together like this? Nothing good would come of it.

They reached the Head Common Room sometime later, during which Draco took the opportunity to inform her of the password ('Dragon's Breath', he'd said with a smirk). He walked into the Common Room, and then headed across it to the door that led to her room. He opened it and quickly set her down on her four poster bed. She gave a small grunt when he dropped her down on her bed, not very gently.

Draco made to leave, but quickly tugged her sheets from under her body and wrapped them over her body, settling her head on the soft, pristine pillows.

"Thank you," she said stiffly, not looking at him.

He paused on his way out, but said nothing and closed the door as he exited the room.

 


	3. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.  
> FYI character's thoughts are in italics.

 

Draco stretched on the couch he was lying in, watching with bored amusement as his... _companion_ set up the Head Common room. It was the first day of school, after dinner. Classes were over, he had no homework, and he'd finished unpacking all his things hours ago. He'd come straight to their dorm after dinner, not being able to bear seeing everyone's cheerful faces any longer. Pansy and Blaise hadn't been there, they'd been given detentions already for being caught in a rather compromising position in the boys' lavatory. He'd settled down on the couch near the fireplace and had slept a little until he heard her footsteps outside the portrait entrance and quickly sat up. He certainly didn't want her walking on him like that. Malfoys were _always_ presentable and always looked their best, no matter who was company.

The extra week Dumbledore had given them had faded into nothing but disappointment for neither of them. The first day they'd avoided each other and nary a word was spoken between them. She was gone with her friends much of the time and he either stayed in his room or took walks around the campus when the weather permitted. Both of them had spent so little time in the dorm their belongings were still mostly unpacked.

She had had enough, apparently, and had decided to get it done with. All morning she had busied herself with cleaning what was already clean and distributing the items from her trunk around the dorm. So far she'd filled up some of the bookshelves in the room, avoiding the ones in which he'd put _his_ books. He'd rolled his eyes at her book selection. History and botany books, a vast amount of potion and spell books and a good deal of muggle literature. He noticed most of these were too advanced for their year. _Of course._

There were one or two pictures-muggle ones- that she took into her room. Now she was sorting through some items in her trunk, muttering incoherently to herself. Merlin knew Granger was done with everything as well but she seemed to have a frightfully annoying tendency to make sure everything was perfect and in order. Which was why he took it upon himself to rearrange things whenever he had the chance-just ever so slightly so she would go crazy trying to figure it out.

The common room had been empty when he awoke, upon a discreet investigation he had seen she was not in her room. She must have gone back to her little boyfriends, then. While he didn't mind at all, he wondered how spectacularly stupid the girl had to be to put up with a pair of idiots like those two. She was almost like a mother to them, if anything. Constantly nagging at them, reminding them to take school seriously and do their homework, trying to sneak moral lessons into everything. It made him want to laugh.

 _Do-Gooder_ , he thought, chuckling to himself. And what good had all that work ever done her? Those two would never learn.

If he were in her place, he'd have sent them sailing out the window a long time ago. But the three had been as thick as thieves since First year, and it wasn't like anyone was asking for his opinion anyway. Draco shook his head. Why was he even thinking about all this?

He chanced another look at the witch. Tired of the silence, he'd tried to speak to her once or twice that day, but she had remained largely unresponsive, appearing to be caught in a bad mood. Indeed, she seemed to be rather peevish, her lips were pursed and her brow slightly furrowed. He didn't mind. A silent Granger was a perfect Granger.

Rain tapped loudly on the fogged window, the charmed glass muffled the howling wind outside. Quickly, his foot tapped irritably on the floor. That blasted rain. If it wasn't raining so hard he'd be free to go to the Quidditch field and fly around some. Instead he was stuck here with a seemingly mute Granger. In an hour or so they would have to go on their first patrol around the castle for any little cretins who might be breaking rules. He sneered. Potter and Weasely never got caught for doing just that. Even in their first year when he'd caught them and that oaf with that dragon, he'd been sent to the Forbidden Forest as well, which was highly unfair.

"Keep making that nasty face and it'll freeze that way. Or better yet, carry on. It's an improvement." He nearly jumped a foot into the air but caught himself just in time. Granger sailed by, carrying a load of blankets that appeared to have been homemade. She smiled a cold little smile at him, and shut herself into her room.

 _Damn you,_ he thought, running a hand through his hair _._

Both their rooms were on opposite sides of the common room, hers was deep rouge, with heavy gold colored curtains and a warm plush carpet. His was emerald and silver, with a cold marble floor just like in his old dorm. Both had similar furnishings; a large four poster bed with curtains for privacy, a roaring fire place and a balcony with French doors that opened into the courtyard. He'd noticed their rooms had no desks, but there was a large table in the common room where they would both have to work in. He could tell the old man was behind this. What was that he'd said? "We'd like you two to put aside your differences and dislike for each other to promote inter-House unity."

_Doddering old fool._

Draco glared daggers at her door and strode into his own room. To think that he had to deal with this for the rest of the year... He changed out of his school uniform into a black dress shirt and trousers. Once his robes were back on he began to pace around the room impatiently, passing a hand through his hair occasionally. This confinement due to the weather was going to drive him insane.

* * *

Malfoy glared at the portrait entrance. Granger was holding him up. He'd been waiting for five minutes now. He leaned against the wall and wondered what in the blazes she could possibly be doing. If it were up to him, he would go on without her and let her patrol the castle on her own. But some rule declared they had to do it together. He suspected this was another of the old fools' tricks.

"What are you waiting for?"

His eyes snapped up. He'd been so busy in his thoughts he hadn't realized she'd just come out. She didn't wait for him to reply. Simply marched off with a determined air towards their scheduled route. Nodding to a pair of Slytherin prefects also on patrol that were just passing by, Malfoy caught up to the girl in no time.

"Granger." She kept walking. He called her again. Nothing.

He caught her right wrist, jerking her back towards him. Just as quickly he felt a stinging hex on his arm, forcing him to let her go in surprise.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy! I'm not some doll you can throw around! You don't own me!" She hissed, pointing her wand straight into his face.

"Maybe if you'd answered me in the first place, I wouldn't have had to resort to physical contact, pet." He drawled, quirking one fine eyebrow at her wand which was aimed between his eyes.

She lowered it slowly. "Don't call me pet. I'm not yours."

He smirked. She turned and advanced into the next hallway.

Draco walked at his own pace. His long legs carried him farther quickly, and he wasn't even trying to catch up with her. Sooner or later she would tire out and have to slow down. It was a little amusing; she was practically running away from him.

Hermione walked along; making sure to scan each crevice and empty classroom to make sure no one was out of bed. She didn't like the way Malfoy thought he could just yank and boss her around like she was his slave. Just thinking of their incident days before made a chill run down her spine. She never thought he'd stoop down to actually hurting someone. She'd known him for a good deal of time, but she'd never seen him that way before.

The Malfoy she knew had always hidden behind his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, or empty threats that usually included his father. This Malfoy was different. It unsettled her. She'd have to watch her temper from now on; she didn't want any repeats of yesterday. She still had the burn mark on her neck from his wand, as well. Harry had noticed it during Charms. She'd panicked and waved it off as a scar. She didn't want them worrying about her; she could take care of herself. What would the people say if the Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch and all that nonsense, couldn't fight off a school boy?

But she _could_ fight him off, that she knew very well. Hermione was not Head Girl nor top of her class for nothing. So the next time he tried anything funny, she would deal back a stronger blow to give him a lesson.

Draco watched her carefully. She was slowing down. No doubt she was over-thinking that enormous brain of hers as always. Those blasted brown curls swung across her back as she pushed them off her shoulder. He wanted to take his wand and shear those curls off her head. For years, every time she'd best him in a class, he longed to reach over and give those curls a good yank, just to hear her scream.

She'd always been a very sharp thorn in his side, that Granger. The Golden Girl of the school, the smartest, most loved by all the professors. With that loud, bossy mouth, her know it all attitude constantly made him want to use an Unforgivable on the nearest person. He remembered how when he'd first met her, he'd immediately thought of befriending her. She looked clever and like a good friend, he'd caught her practicing a few spells in her compartment, and right then he could tell she was really something. Until he'd found out she'd already stuck herself to Potter and Weasely and on top of that the girl was Muggleborn.

 _What a pity_ , he thought, and then realized he was echoing what his father had said.

But it was true-his father had been right. She had matured rather well, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone. Her lips were pink and pouty, her bottom lip fuller than the top. More than once he'd heard confessions from his classmates who wondered what it must be like to kiss them. Her eyes held an expression of intelligence within the dark brown depths, bewitching to many who looked into them. Those eyes challenged him so often, it was a secret pleasure to taunt and tease her and watch as the annoyance and anger grew there. Her hair, regardless of how it had looked in the past, had a charm of its own and was certainly more tolerable now than it used to be. Anytime he looked at her, her white skin made him think of blood and he didn't know why. Those looks, those brains and skill would have made her the ultimate Pureblood trophy wife, if she was a Pureblood. He would have fought tooth and nail for her to be the next lady of the Manor he would soon inherit.

But of course she was a Mudblood and there was their ongoing rivalry and her aggravating tendency to not be able to shut her mouth. The girl had a talent for making him want to break something, namely her.

Draco let out an inaudible sigh. The loud dripping sound coming from all around them was annoying, and it was dark, cold and too damn quiet down here. He needed a distraction. There was nothing there but him and the subject of his thoughts, unfortunately. So he zeroed in on the girl and began to make small talk-or what he considered appropriate small talk for a Mudblood like Granger. He noticed how she tensed and moved away as she felt him come up beside her, so for fun, he only moved closer.

"Ever thought of cutting your hair, Granger? Or shaving it all off? I'd prefer the latter, to be truthful."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione brushed a stray curl off her forehead and said, "I like my hair the way it is. It's no matter to me whether you like it or not."

Draco eyed the mass on her head disdainfully, twirling his wand in his hand. "Would you let me cut it?" he inquired. She looked at him with annoyed eyes and replied with a curt " _No."_

 _"_ There's been no other side effects from the hex I hit you with?"

"Thankfully, no."

"Good. I don't need you siccing your friends on me."

"I can't control them," she said simply. "But if I wanted to get even, I would do it alone."

"You're more vengeful than you let on," he remarked.

"You supply the reasons."

"I don't think I can deny that."

They turned a corner.

"We haven't set up rules for the dorm," Hermione said.

"I would assume the standard rules apply."

"They do, but I think there's more we need to establish."

"Just give me a copy of your studying schedule," he said, bored. "I'll _try_ to stay out of your way."

"Not only that," she said, "I think while we're still getting accustomed to being around each other, we shouldn't have other people over."

"Do your friends apply to this rule? I will only agree if you say yes."

"Of course they are. They're as keen to be around you as I am. If what happened last week was any indication, I don't want any repeats."

He grinned. "Pity. If I'm to live with you for the year I'll need entertainment."

She gave him a look. "Entertain yourself."

"Will I be allowed outside my room now and then?" he asked teasingly.

"Provided you behave yourself, then perhaps."

"Merlin." He laughed. "Shall I just call you Warden?"

She ignored him and they turned into another corridor. Hermione entered an open classroom that had the lights on. The room was empty, but broken bottles of ink lay on the floor, evidence of Peeve's boredom. She cleaned it quickly while Malfoy waited outside

"You're welcome to read my books if you like. All I ask is you treat them carefully and put them back where you found them."

"I have no interest in your books, but duly noted."

"I wake up and go to bed early most days. I don't mind noise, but try to keep it at normal levels."

"No problem there."

"For our duties, we live together now, so as long as we communicate and share the work things should go smoothly."

 _"_ Fine _."_

She looked at him expectantly _._ "Have you no rules of your own?"

"Don't touch me or my things, don't bother me unless its urgent, knock before entering. Simple, really."

"Fine," Hermione agreed.

"Though I feel that first rule of yours should be edited a bit. I don't want your friends in my dorm ever."

" _Our_ dorm." She frowned. "I'd keep them away from your things and as long as you don't antagonize each other nothing should go badly."

"Granger. I don't want them there. Having to live with you is bad enough, I don't want the other two-thirds of your group making this unbearable."

"We'll settle on something, I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes.

Draco stopped. Exasperated, Hermione turned to glare at him.

"They're my friends, Malfoy."

"You've got the rest of the castle to work with, Granger. Don't be greedy."

She opened her mouth. He cut her off.

"I dont want them there. I'm not moving on this."

"Fine," she huffed. "But the same applies to your friends."

"Gladly, if it means I don't have to deal with yours."

They finished their rounds without another incident, thankfully, and headed back up the many flights of stairs to their common room. Hermione sailed through the entrance once she had given the password, not bothering to hold it open for Malfoy.

She sat down at the large table and pulled out her bag from beneath it, pulling a roll of parchment and her quill out, spreading them neatly over the table.

Malfoy watched her sit and prepare to write a letter. He stretched out on the couch again, stifling a yawn.

"Letter home?" he drawled, resting his hands behind his head.

She looked at him over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. "Never _you_ mind."

Draco shut his eyes and smirked, his full lips curving upwards.

"Send my love to your parents."

She scoffed, and twisted in her seat, letter forgotten. "In that case, you should send my greetings to your parents. I'm sure they'll be delighted."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at her and said, "I'm not so sure about that, Granger. Malfoys do not associate with Mudbloods. _Your_ family, however, would be ecstatic if someone with noble blood like mine should ever attach themselves to the likes of _you_."

Hermione reddened and gathered her things suddenly. She rushed over to where he lay on the couch, eyes blazing. Though only two or three inches separated them in height, he always held the advantage, but this time it was hers.

"Quite the contrary. My family knows all about you, Malfoy, and I dare say they would be appalled should I ever associate with a swine like you." She turned to stalk into her room, but Draco had stood up so quickly she'd hardly noticed he was suddenly standing in front of her.

Draco's face was pale with rage; his neat blonde hair fell into his eyes as he leaned closer to the speechless witch, towering over her.

"The only swine in this room is you, Mudblood. Lowly, inconsequential, overconfident, walking around these halls like you own them, like you're too good for everyone else. You're an abomination to the wizarding world; you're lower than dirt, and your family would be fucking _honored_ if I were to ever want you," he hissed into her outraged face. Her eyes were wide, cheeks crimson, but her jaw was set determinedly and she stood her ground. This infuriated him, their earlier peace forgotten. She should be afraid of him, the stupid girl.

She made a sudden movement, reaching for her wand, and on instinct, thanks to his Quidditch training, he caught her in time, gripping her wrists hard, pulling her closer to him.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" she gasped and began to struggle, but he was having none of it. Draco pushed her against the nearest wall, pinning his hips to hers and placing each hand on both sides of her head.

At last, she was frightened. The feel of her shaking against him gave him more pleasure than he wanted to admit. It was an odd rush of feeling and sudden satisfaction--or was it pleasure? He was too distracted to figure it out. Brown eyes widened, her lips parted slightly, and she began to struggle harder.

"Stop! Stupefy!" she cried, but his constrictive grip on her wrist did not allow her to aim correctly, and the spell shot up to the ceiling. "Get away from me!"

Her hands and legs were shaking, the situation she was in felt surreal. Her wrists were throbbing with pain under his grip. He held her so tightly she could hardly move--she'd never considered how strong he might be physically, and it was frightening to realize that now that he had her cornered. She still held her wand but could not aim it at him; any spell she uttered would miss. There was some pressure, she felt something hard on her thigh and she did _not_ want to think about that. Her mind was becoming so frazzled she felt she might cry.

She kept pushing at his chest, demanding him to let her alone, but he would not budge. Her eyes met his and they were still full of anger, stormy grey clouding over like the sky before a storm. There was something else there, too, something she couldn't put her finger on, but it was making her uncomfortable, the way he was looking at her now. Her stomach twisted and she was filled with a sense of dread and fear to the likes she had never felt before--it was ominous, and had come as if from nowhere, sweeping the words from her tongue to render her speechless in its wake. Her whole body reacted to it--she became tense and she shuddered, goosebumps rolling like a wave over her skin.  _Get away from him,_ it said, but still stuck in its trap, the best she could do was press herself against the wall to separate the contact of their bodies.

He was coming closer, arctic eyes boring into dark brown, and then moving down, and settling on her parted lips. Involuntarily, his thumbs twitched, brushed back the hairs on her temples. She froze; her heart hammered in her throat.

And then he was gone. She almost collapsed when his weight was removed. Her lungs were about to burst and she let out a breath she had not known she was holding. Relief was another breath taken in and blood rushing to her hands, one of which still clutched her wand in a white-knuckled grip. She stared at him, heart hammering, shaken to her core. 

He was standing facing away from her, running a hand through his light hair.

Hermione regained her composure and bit out, "What exactly was that? Is it a new habit of yours to push me into things and inappropriately invade my personal space? _Malfoy_!" She yelled after him--he'd abruptly started walking to his room without a backwards glance at her. Furious and upset, she ran after him.

She reached out quickly and grabbed his arm, turning him to face her. "Answer me!"

In one quick, startling movement, and before she could react, he grabbed her by the shoulders and crushed his lips against hers. Her mouth was open, having been in the middle of her demand and out of shock. He kissed her hard, slipping his tongue inside her mouth, muffling her shriek, pulling her to him when she tried to shove him off.

There was that fear again.

Had she not been so completely and utterly shocked by Malfoy's kiss she would have recognized it at once as the fight or flight response, and that it suddenly seemed like the most important objective of her life, that she get away from him. 

She would have run, if she could have. But her legs seemed locked in place, and her arms stuttered when she tried reaching up to push him away. She could feel him kissing her but couldn't process it. Her mind seemed to have stopped completely, and it was both terrifying and frustrating that she could not respond the way she wanted to. 

* * *

* * *

 

She tasted divine. Her scent filled his nostrils and made his mouth water, and he crushed his lips harder onto hers, taking cruel pleasure in the way she gasped in pain and shock. His hand tangled into her hair and pulled her head back though she tried to resist; he bit her lips, her muffled cries of pain and anger only drove him on, hopelessly aroused. He didn't notice the tear that slipped out of her eye.

The moment he had kissed her she had frozen completely, but within seconds she had started up again like a vengeful cat and pummeled his chest as best as she could, but the blows were weak and he had a firm enough grip on her that ensured she could not get away.

He was attacking her mouth; his tongue had granted its own admission past her lips and now touched hers, and Hermione gagged. This was the last thing she'd expected to happen. His eyes were closed, and she watched him as he kissed her as if experiencing it from outside her body. His painful grip on her shoulder made her eyes water in pain, the other was caught in her curls, holding her so close to him she could feel the hard points of his body biting into hers. Screaming or protesting was made difficult by his lips, he'd only press his lips harder against her own, and who knew kissing could hurt? She was short of breath and her heart hammered away inside her ribs; her ears were full of the sound of his fevered breathing, her own stifled whimpers. There was bound to be cuts on her lips from the sharp bites he'd given them-it could have been just her mind but she was certain there was blood on her tongue. Malfoy gave another sharp bite and Hermione flinched, pushing roughly at his shoulders, arms, chest, all to no effect.

"Malfoy-!"

The kiss broke-he opened his eyes, saw her, stunned, ravaged, furious. His thoughts snapped back into place. They were both breathing heavily. She was still shaking, eyes dazed, red, and he was struck with the shocking urge to do it again.

Without warning he pushed her away, and she, who had been trying so hard to escape, fell backwards to the floor, landing painfully on her backside. He watched her with an unreadable expression. So shocked was she that she was still staring at the space where he had been moments prior, but within seconds her eyes cleared and her hand came up to her swollen lips. Her eyes flew up to meet his.

"W… Wha-" she faltered. "What the _hell_ did you do?"

There it was, the anger. He could see it blazing in her eyes, pushing past the confusion. He stared at her for a second or two before turning and slamming himself shut into his room.

Hermione stared after him, unsure of what to do. Part of her wanted to follow, blast open his door, and hex him within an inch of his life. The other part of her wanted to cry, and run far away. She pressed her fingertips to her lips gingerly. She could still taste him. The thought made her shiver in disgust.

Slowly, she picked herself up, walked into her room and shut the door, her arms around herself.

Malfoy had just kissed her.

 _Malfoy_. The arrogant, racist bastard had kissed her.

 _He took my first kiss!_ The glass vase on her bureau shattered, and Hermione jumped quite violently. She took a deep breath to calm down. It wouldn't do to break every piece of furniture in the room. Tempting, but she had to figure out what had just happened.

_He kissed me._

But why? Had he not known she didn't want him to?

Hadn't he heard her pleas for him to stop? Granted, they had been muffled due to his lips (she shivered again), but she had hit and pushed him! She had given clear signs that was something she did not want!

 _It's like he didn't care,_ she thought.

This wasn't like him. This was _so_ unlike him. It was like he was a completely different Malfoy from the one she was used to, and it scared her.

Her lips were sore and tender. She refrained from reaching up to touch them again. She felt slightly ill, and worst of all vulnerable. She had always prided herself on being quick to react in the face of danger, but had let herself down today, and had let Malfoy keep his control over the assault. She had stood there like a petrified idiot and let him do what he wanted. Her cheeks burned with anger and humiliation.

 Questions raced through her mind as she changed into her pyjamas and brushed her teeth, washing her mouth thoroughly afterwards. If she wanted answers, she would have to confront him the next day. Tears stung her eyes, and she fell asleep clutching her wand tightly underneath her pillow.

* * *

Draco was on a high. He paced the length of his room quickly, back and forth, back and forth, dragging his hands through his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and pulling at it until a headache began to form. Fury and pleasure overtook his mind and body and for now, he was a slave to the feeling. He'd kissed her, and it had been amazing. But why had he kissed her? What in damnation had prompted him to do it? Draco quickly paced around his room, kicking his school bag aside. The fire was the only light source, drowning his chamber in warm light. He felt the fire's heat as if it were hers, as if she was still pressed against him. 

He, Draco Malfoy, had kissed the Mudblood. He should have felt repulsed, but was surprised that he didn't. She had felt good, even as she struggled and protested he had loved every second of it.

She had been as shocked as him, clearly--somehow, in some twisted way, that made the kiss even better. 

He'd been so close to kissing her before, when he had her trapped against the wall, but tore himself away in time. And then the silly girl ran after him demanding him to answer her and he couldn't hold back any longer. The little fool should have known better than to push him. Seeing the fury blaze in her eyes and her pale face glaring daggers up at him set him off. Those plump lips parted in a snarl, that defiant little chin poking up at him, and... _oh_. His body was responding again. Damn it all.

_Why?_ _Why **her**? _

Not that he'd never fantasized about Granger in the past, no, far from it. Over the years he'd built up a little collection in his head--to be honest, he had more of her than the other girls he thought about, but he'd always supposed it was because of the hate he felt towards her. Granger, underneath him and bent over a desk with her skirt pushed up, a gag in her mouth. Granger, with her tie knotted around her wrists. Granger sucking him off in the Restricted Section, kneeling at his feet as she ought to. 

He had always surmised that if it ever happened, he would have satisfied his curiosity and moved on. Granger was a very pretty girl, and possibly a good snog if she didn't just stand there, but she was still bossy and uptight, and he just couldn't stand her. He never would have thought he would have broken off that kiss still wanting more. And more. 

He ran his hand through his hair again, gritting his teeth.

So he felt a physical attraction towards the girl. What did it matter, anyway? He wasn't the only one. She was obviously innocent and the taboo of it all was probably another reason why it was so enticing. It wasn't like he was in _love_ with her; he was simply in need of a good fuck, that was all.

 _She tastes wonderful for a Mudblood,_ he thought, his cold eyes staring into the fire. _She was...clean...not dirty._

And then he was disgusted with himself for thinking such a thing. He reminded himself why he hated her and all the times she had humiliated him along with Potter and Weasely, and felt quite relieved when he felt the familiar hatred for her bubble up inside of him, waiting to be released.

 


	4. Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there.  
> If you're reading this for the first time I thought I should let you know the full story and its sequel are already completed over at fanfiction.net (here=http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7550124/1/His-Little-Bird) if you want to go check it out there, along with my other stories that are in progress.  
> Nothing pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to me.

 

Hermione frowned to herself as she sat in her Muggle Studies class, for once totally unable to pay attention. Not even in her sleep had she been able to get the kiss out of her mind--she'd resolved to confront Draco and demand to know why he'd kissed her, but he hadn't been around at all. The moment she'd woken up she had hastened to dress herself and stormed off to his door, a thousand angry thoughts throbbing in her head but none so much as her fist, which was clenched and poised, ready to hit its mark as soon as it opened his door. The chance never came. Hermione had knocked and hammered at his door but no one answered, and when she looked around his cloak and school bag were missing from their usual spot by the coat rack; she assumed he'd gone to sleep in the Syltherin dorms.

 _He can't even face me_ , she thought bitterly, as she looked around the room.

She had class with the Hufflepuffs today; the only other Gryffindor in the room was Cormac McLaggen, who'd taken the seat beside hers without asking. He was very handsome, she mused, looking at him through the sides of her eyes. Strong chin and jaw, tousled blonde hair, and a mischievous smile. Rather easy to get along with--between the both of them they carried most of the class and from time to time Hermione found herself almost wishing he'd been made Head Boy rather than Malfoy. Even though he was quite cocky, she knew she would rather deal with his self-confidence over Malfoy's outright arrogance.

The class had been assigned by the Professor to read the next chapter and take notes. The sounds of quills scratching on parchment filled the room. Everyone was still reading and writing except for her; she'd read the chapter the day before and had taken notes already. The absolute silence in the room was threatening to make her doze off but her mind was buzzing again, and suddenly she felt quite jittery. She hadn't slept much the night before, she hadn't been able to stop her train of thought until the early hours of the morning. The memory of Malfoy's cruel kiss plagued her when she least expected it, and miserable, she was left to wait for when she would later see him that day and tell him just what she thought of his unacceptable behavior.

She tapped the tip of her quill absently on her cheek, not realizing there was still ink on it. Should she tell Harry and Ron? They always told each other everything, but they were boys, and closer as friends. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted them to know about this-the ridiculous manner in which they had reacted to the bruises Malfoy had left on her wrists was proof enough. A battle in the corridor! It still made her angry to think of-what in the world would prompt them to do something so _stupid?_

It smarted at her pride that Malfoy had hexed her-accident or not, the after- effects had been a nightmare to desk with, and she dreaded to think what might have happened if Malfoy had forced that kiss on her then, when she'd been more vulnerable.

Still, he'd taken advantage of her paralysis to grope at her like she was some sort of rag doll! Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. What was _wrong_ with him? Had someone knocked him hard in the head over the summer or had he always been so vile? It was hard to tell. She'd never been so exposed to him for so long so continuously-brief encounters in between classes, words thrown at each other, unwilling partnership in projects were really all she was used to but something had changed, and the more she thought it over the more she was sure of it. She would have to confront him, and soon. Whatever his deal was, she could not let him continue.

_Or else I will become afraid of him, and that can't happen._

A movement to her right caught her attention. Cormac was trying to slip her a note. She caught it wearily, glancing towards the professor, who was grading papers at his desk all the way at the front of the room.

_You've ink on your cheek_

Mortified, Hermione ducked her head down and swiped at her cheek with her sleeve. Cormac chuckled silently, then took the note back and scribbled something on it, then dropped it in her lap.

_It's smeared now._

Hermione threw up her hands and he laughed again. He leaned over, licking the tip of his thumb slowly, and gently rubbed at the small smear on her cheek.

Hermione froze under his touch, reminiscent over the events of the previous night. Icy trickles of unease traveled down her spine but Cormac finished and pulled his hand away. She felt herself blush and she wrote ' _thank you_ ' on the note and slid it back to him. He gave her a smug smile.

At that moment, a knock sounded on the classroom door, and to her surprise Malfoy stepped in. "Excuse me, Professor, I need to see Miss Granger. Head business." It didn't slip past Hermione how the 'Miss' sounded forced and sarcastic.

The Professor nodded at Hermione, waving his hand. She packed her things and waved goodbye to Cormac, who winked at her. Pretending not to have noticed, she walked out the room, not bothering to meet up with Draco, who was still at the door. She was adjusting her schoolbag on her shoulder when he caught up to her.

"It's the other way. McGongall wants to see us." He swept past her, nearly toppling her over. Hermione clenched her jaw and huffed. So he was going to pretend it never happened, then.

_Like hell **I** will._

She wanted answers, and she wanted them _now_. The corridor was empty besides them, they had gone far enough that there was nothing here but unused or locked classrooms, and here she found her chance.

Pulling out her wand, she pointed at Malfoy and whispered an immobilizing spell. A yellow jet of sparks hit him in the back, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Hermione calmly walked up to the frozen Malfoy and stood in front of him, narrowing her eyes.

Malfoy's eyes were positively glacial. The look he gave her was of utmost loathing-his nostrils flared, and a red flush crept up his neck.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was cold and smooth, not a trace of anger in it. She was unnerved, but went on.

"You very well know why I froze you. Why did you kiss me?"

He looked at her coolly. "It was the only way to get you to be quiet."

"The devil's tooth it was! You could have _asked_ me to be quiet! And you had no right to kiss me, especially against my will!"

Malfoy gave a hard laugh. It sent a shiver down her spine, making the fine hairs on her arms prickle.

"You never listen to me, Granger. You would only have gotten louder. You were asking for it!"

In a flash of movement, her wand was pointed at his nose, glowing white with heat. If she pressed it to his skin it would have burnt through his flesh and he watched her carefully with a trace of unease, waiting for the moment she chose to strike.

"I wasn't asking for anything, you bloody pervert. You took my first kiss, something I was saving for the right person and it certainly wasn't meant for someone like you."

Malfoy simply smiled at her, a cold, hard smile, fake pity in his gaze.

"Oh, Granger. Only you would be upset at the fact that someone took your precious little first kiss. Is no one is willing enough to kiss you? I bet Weaselbee hasn't even tried making a move. You should feel honored I ever did it. It's not every day I'm forced to kiss a Mudblood, especially one so loathsome as you."

Hermione lost it then. Wand forgotten, she slapped him in the face, putting enough force behind it to leave a mark. With a strange sense of elation she felt his flesh against her palm and heard the crack of her strike, and though she knew it was wrong, she felt better once it was done.

Malfoy's head snapped back with the force of the blow. A drop of blood from his nostril slowly made its way onto his lips. He clenched his fists in fury, and realized her concentration on the immobilizing spell had broken and he could move again. To make sure it wasn't a trick he moved his arm again subtly, but she didn't seem to have noticed. The witch was breathing hard; her chest heaving with every breath. Anger brought a brilliant spark to her eyes, and her teeth were slightly bared at him as she eyed him, unaware her spell had broken. She looked like she might hit him again.

 _I think not,_ he decided.

When she opened her mouth to say something else he took the opportunity to lunge at her. At once her eyes widened and she tried to twist away but it was too late-he caught her by the waist and took her down onto the floor in a rush of curls and a small scream, which he muffled with his palm.

He caught himself just before he fell on top of her, balancing on the balls of his feet as he crouched over her dazed form. Apparently she'd hit her head hard on the ground; her face was scrunched up in pain, a tear slid out of her shut eye. He didn't care. Despite very badly wanting to hex her back he did not draw out his wand, as that would only make things worse, and they were exposed enough here. If Filch walked in on them now it would be the end of everything.

Hermione opened her eyes; they were clouded with pain and hate. She slowly moved her lips, trying to form words.

"B-bastard..." she whispered, and spat in his face.

Draco swiped her spit off his cheek with his sleeve, seething.

_It's like she **wants** me to kill her._

Damnation, the witch must have been crafted by demons to torment him. If there were gods they must have been laughing at him. _Brought low by a Mudblood._ He wanted to slap her, but it seemed she was in enough pain from her tumble so he made do with sharply pulling at a lock of her hair and she winced.

"I warned you not to touch me, Granger. That was one of my rules, after all."

She regarded him warily, her vision lightly fuzzy. Bringing her knees up she tried to punch him in the face, his stomach, anywhere so he could get off her. But he lazily caught her hands and leaned in closer, his face jeering.

"Get _away_ from me, Malfoy," she hissed, and tried to turn onto her side to make him lose his balance. He tightened his grip on her wrists and straddled her, preventing further movement.

"You need to learn to respect your superiors, Mudblood." She struggled underneath him, but he held fast to her.

Hermione scoffed. "By superiors, I hope you don't mean yourself."

With tremendous effort, she yanked her wrists out of his grasp and bucked her hips, he lost his balance with an angry yell and fell off of her.

Hermione stood, holding her hand to her head. When she brought it back to her front there was blood on her fingers. Luckily, the wound didn't seem to be so bad, so she could fix it herself later. She raised her eyes and stared defensively at Malfoy, who had risen and was standing before her, his snowy eyes blazing.

She took an involuntary step back; he was leaning forwards, towering over her.

"Don't you come near me," she warned. "You will regret it."

He paused, gauging the threat in her eyes. Hermione stood her ground, wishing the urge to run wasn't prevalent in her mind.

After some tense seconds our them facing of in this manner, he relented, and stepped back, his eyes on the wound on her head.

"This isn't over," he said, his voice like a sharpened dagger. He turned and advanced into the hall, robes billowing behind him, and alone, Hermione let out a long, shuddering breath.

* * *

After their meeting with McGonagall, Hermione found herself in her sanctuary, the library. She had her own private little nook here, tucked away by the Restricted Section. It was deep into the back of library, where no student ever passed by and she could study or read or even sleep in peace for long periods of time, which she did often, especially around finals time. Hidden all around by large bookshelves, there was a beautiful stained glass window set into an arched alcove, where a cushioned seat jutted out from underneath the window, creating a cozy little nook where one could rest or read. It was Hermione's opinion that it was the most beautiful place in the castle: it had books, it was quiet, it was simple and comfortable and lovely, and it was hers.

A table and chairs were set a few feet away from the alcove, directly in the weak sunlight. When the sun set the lamps all came on at once in the library, casting an unearthly yellow glow all around, which she didnt quite like as much as she felt it stole some of the charm from her nook. She had never even brought Harry and Ron here, it was too sacred for her. Whether she was studying or reading or simply resting from a long day, she always came here. No one knew of this spot, the students never came this far back into the vast library and that was why she liked it best. No one bothered her here. She felt safe.

Most everyone else liked to occupy the higher floors of the library since they were better shielded from Madame Pince's shrewd, all-seeing eyes. Hermione had done so, too, until her Fourth year, when she had been trying to avoid Viktor Krum's shy stare and had stumbled upon the secret place.

As she leaned back into the side panel of the alcove, she thought of what had happened earlier between herself and Malfoy. They had walked in silence to the Professor's office, where she, on Dumbledore's behalf, had asked how well they were working together. Hermione had opened her mouth to comment on Malfoy's recent behavior, but before she uttered a word, he'd cut in and said they were both getting along just fine.

She'd been too surprised and annoyed to answer, sending him a suspicious look instead. He'd been calm and collected for the rest of the interview, and once dismissed he hadn't left until she had, as if making sure that she would not reveal anything to Professor McGonagall while he was gone. After his cutting in she decided they would settle this discourse between themselves like adults, without magic or physical interaction. If he failed in that, then she would not wait another moment to bring the matter to light with the Professor. She had walked away from McGongall's office feeling worn, and had unknowingly missed the threatening look Draco had sent her right before he left her for wherever he was heading.

And now here she was tired and confused, looking out at the school grounds through the stained glass, trying to make out the human figures outside. Down in the Quidditch pitch she could barely make out Harry, Ron and Ginny on the brooms along with the rest of the Gryffindor team. There was one match left before the end of the season. It was almost November and the snow was on its way, the days got shorter and colder, the trees had shed their leaves, and the leaves had either already decayed or been blown away, leaving the school grounds barren and empty. Her breath fogged the cold glass as she clutched her robes about her, shivering slightly. She'd have to remember to wear a thicker jumper next time.

A small crease formed between her brows as she contemplated the events over the past few days. Malfoy had kissed her and then insulted and threatened her afterwards, topping it all off with acting like none of it had ever happened when confronted by Mcgonagall. Her curiosity and lust for knowledge were drilling through her brain, demanding to know what was going on.

Malfoy hated her. That much had always been obvious. However, none of what he'd told her had made any sense--he had said he'd only kissed her to shut her up. She was wholly unconvinced. There was a multitude of ways in which he could have achieved that without having to resort to a forced kiss. She shuddered, almost gagging at the memory of Malfoy's tongue in her mouth. She'd brushed her teeth (and tongue) furiously for several minutes afterwards, making sure to use plenty of mouthwash.

The day after, one of the lower year prefects had told her Malfoy had changed his patrol partner to another Slytherin, so now Hermione had done her rounds with some lower year Gryffindors. She sighed angrily. Every time she wanted to discuss his behavior he disappeared, as if he could read her mind. It was infuriating and Hermione wanted nothing more than to settle it all at once so she could finally have some peace.

 _Coward,_ she thought again angrily. _He doesn't want to acknowledge what he's done._

She shook her head. The very day the Headmaster had given them his reasons and hopes for pairing them together and they had been dashed mere hours later. Still, she felt it must have been foreseen, or even somewhat expected. It was to much to ask for change from a Malfoy, as she was learning first hand.

Class was bound to begin soon, it was time for her to leave. Still, she stayed there for a few extra minutes, tracing her fingers along the outlines of the coloured glass, admiring the gothic design of the structure, trying to get her thoughts together. Minutes passed but it was futile. Really pressed for time now, she slid off the seat and shouldered her bag, taking out her schedule. Double potions with the Slytherins.

 _Just what I need,_ she thought, her stomach sinking.

Perhaps she could corner Malfoy after class. The sooner she got this over with the better.

Hermione walked into Harry and Ron on her descent into the dungeons, exchanging greetings and bits of toast. The trio walked into the dingy classroom, ignoring Professor Snape as he glared at them from his desk, black eyes narrowing in particular at Harry. The rest of the students streamed in behind them, their happy chatter immediately silenced by the gloom of the room and the deadly glare from their educator. Malfoy sat on the opposite side of the room, and refused to ackowledge her though all she did was glance at him. Hermione sat down, renewed in her ire, just as Snape stood and addresed the class.

"The instructions are on the board. Follow them and do not embarrass me." These words seemed to have been directed at the Gryffindor side of the room. Snape sat at his desk and began to grade papers.

The dingy room was filled with quiet sounds of students gathering their ingredients and opening their textbooks. Harry wrote down the instructions as Ron began preparing his cauldron. Hermione, of course, had already started, working with precise movements so as to not mess up her potion. After tying up her hair she tipped powdered beetle wings into her cauldron. The instructions called for her to stir clock-wise for five minutes until the liquid turned red.

As she stirred, she glanced around the room. Poor Neville was having difficulty cutting the frog intestines--he looked a little green. Lavender and Parvati were sneaking glimpses at the latest Witch Weekly under their desk, and Dean Thomas seemed to be falling asleep at his cauldron. Discreetly, so as not to catch Snape's attention, she raised her wand just slightly and sent him a stinging hex. Cursing, he jerked awake, dropping his cauldron stirrer.

"Sorry," Hermione whispered. He shrugged and resumed working.

Harry and Ron were both cursing under their breath; they'd reach the same stage she was just finishing, but their potions were pink. Hermione was about to whisper the remedy to them when she felt a familiar ominous presence behind them.

"Tell me, Potter, Weasley: What is that mess in your cauldrons?"

 _Snape_. Hermione tensed. He seemed to have a knack for telling just when Harry and Ron messed up.

Ron had gone red. Harry stared coolly back and said, "It's a Sleepwalking cure, Professor."

The Potion master's lip curled. "I don't think so, Potter. Would you honor us by reading the last line in number six on the board?"

Harry grit his teeth. "After adding the salamander spine, quickly stir the potion three times counter-clockwise."

Snape fixed his eyes on Harry. "And did you, Potter?"

Harry glared at him. "No, sir."

Snape waved his wand. Harrys' and Rons' cauldrons emptied. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Start again." The Slytherins sniggered. Snape swept away, only to relocate by Malfoy, whose potion he praised though it want even finished. Malfoy didn't seem to care much for the praise, only nodding slightly at Snape and resuming his work.

Hermione cast Harry and Ron a sympathetic glance as she added snake eyes to her potion; the final touch. It turned bright purple, just as it should. She smiled to herself. At least something had come out right so far.

At the end of class she cleared away her things, keeping track of Malfoy all the while, who had not looked in her direction once throughout the class, and was now about to leave the classroom. Hermione rushed back from the store room and grabbed her schoolbag, intending to go after him. Just as he was slipping out the door Snape called out to her.

"Miss Granger, see to it that you close and lock the store room door after you exit it. I will not be robbed again."

Walking stiffly, Hermione went to the door and did as he bade, although she had not been the last person to exit the store room. Snape's dead eyes stared at her accusingly and she knew he referred to her second year, when she had stolen ingredients to make the Polyjuice Potion. Snape turned back to his papers without another word to her, and Hermione left the room, scanning the dungeons. _Damn_. Malfoy had gone already.

"What a prat," Harry said from behind her, and Hermione jumped.

"You'd think he'd have gotten over it by now," Ron was saying, and she nodded. "All the same, I was the last one to leave the door open. Sorry, Hermione."

"Don't worry about it," she said, and they began their climb out of the dungeons.

Malfoy didn't sleep in the dorm again that night. Hermione locked her door and went to bed, and tried to sleep, wishing Dumbledore had picked anyone else for the Head Boy position.

_He might as well have chosen Moaning Myrtle and things would be going ten times better than they are now._


	5. The Bird Sings (Or Sound)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter and co. belong to JK Rowling.

It was around midnight, and she and Malfoy were patrolling the dungeons. Hermione had been set to do her rounds with Georgie, her new patrol partner, but that morning during breakfast Malfoy had sent her a note to say his patrol partner had switched on short notice and since everyone else was alreaady paired off Hermione was the only available option. She had been forced to accept. From the moment they met up to now neither of them had said a single word to each other since the confontation before the meeting with McGonagall.

Puddles of water littered the ground, the drops that had formed them over time still dripped steadily onto the cobbled stone floor. The sound hadn't bothered her until the silence had settled between them _._ The eerie wash of amber light from the torches along the wall painted the darkened corridors like a strange painting, full of blacks and oranges; nothing was a clear form, everything was a thriving mass of colour.

 _The pipes must be leaking_ , she thought, inspecting the walls. The quiet was making her tense. Malfoy had kept quiet from the start, no snide remarks or petty jokes issued forth from him, just a distant stare and his acting like she wasn't only sounds coming from him were his footsteps, the velvet rustle of his robes. His presence beside her was as comforting as she imagined the Bloody Baron's would be.

A thousand thoughts were racing around her head, she wished she could just concentrate and pick one because her head was beginning to hurt. But she couldn't-not with him being so uncharacteristically silent. The steady _tap, tap, tap_ of the water in the background reminded her of those Muggle horror movies, where a faucet would always be left on in the background before something was about to happen.

 _But this is Hogwarts_ , she told herself. _Not a cheesy Muggle film._

To lesson both the silence and her own unease, (and perhaps also to annoy her companion into speaking) she began to whistle a favorite song of hers softly; it was sad and low, but she whistled it anyway just to take her mind off things. She was good at it and it showed, she hit all the right notes, the sounds echoed and bounced around the cold, damp dungeons, giving the song an eerier effect than intended.

Malfoy heard the sound and paused, somewhat taken aback. The song reverberated and wavered around him, bouncing off the cold stone. That Granger was always full of surprises. He recognized the song, too, even though he wouldn't dare admit it. It was a Muggle song, that much was obvious. He didn't normally listen to Muggle music (or _ever_ , for that matter), but he'd chanced upon it a while ago. He'd been leaving King's Cross Station, his luggage cart being taken away by his footman. His mother was there, fussing over his suit, and he'd heard it coming from a Muggle couple who had a small radio with them. He'd taken a liking to the song, and had done a little research in private. It had been some time since he had last heard it but he recognized it well enough.

He grudgingly admitted to himself she was excellent at whistling. She hit all the notes right; even the lowest, which was hard for him to do. It was something he did but rarely, like anyone else did. Still, it was strange to think they had something so inconsequential and, frankly, stupid, in common.

Draco watched her more closely as they walked on. Though her hair hid her face from view, he could see how those lovely lips pouted and how she expertly breathed in through her nose while whistling out. That was a very hard thing to do. Merlin, she was a natural. Like a bird in human skin.

Almost as if she could sense him watching her, she began to walk a little faster. Her hips swayed, and her skirt swished against the backs of her thighs. He noticed she wasn't wearing her usual black tights, but he didn't plan on bringing it up. The silly girl must have forgotten how cold it could get down here, hence her light attire. What had prompted her to don Muggle clothing for the occasion evaded him, having traded her school jumper for a thin purple knit sweater. He himself was wearing his usual black suit, his Head Boy badge pinned onto his lapel and wand stuck securely into his pocket.

She finished her song and grew quiet. Draco turned to her at last, too curious to continue ignoring her.

"What sparked that little outburst?" He inquired.

 _He didn't lose his voice, after all,_ she thought wryly.

"I grew bored of the silence."

"I meant the song, Granger. Why did you choose that specific song?" He realized his mistake immediately, and wanted to kick himself.

Granger's eyes flew up to his in surprise, " _You listen to Muggle music?_ "

Her tone was too incredulous and accusatory for his liking. Malfoy felt himself stiffen and his anger rose.

"It's rather impossible to live in these times without knowing some Muggle culture," he said. "Don't presume me to be so ignorant."

He didn't like the way she was looking at him. "It's just a shock, that's all."

"Yes, because wizards don't listen to radios," he snapped. "Or travel outside the wizarding communities. Or ever encounter Muggle things in any way, shape or form."

"I just thought, with your parents and all..."

"Are you implying I am like them?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

Hermione regretted having spoken at all. The way he could turn angry so quickly was frightening.

"No, I only meant I never thought you would be interested in Muggle music."

He scoffed. "It's one song, Granger. Get over it."

"You don't have to be so defensive about it," she said stubbornly. "If you're ashamed of it-"

"If I were ashamed I wouldn't have answered your question," he said impatiently. "I just don't think it important. Now drop it."

She obliged, thankfully, and they continued with their former silence. After the initial surprise had gone the incident was quite far from her mind, but not his. She was thinking how to bring up the kiss again. He thought she was planning on telling her friends.

"I had better not hear later that you're telling your friends about me," he said suddenly. "I don't care how close you are--things regarding my personal life stay private."

"You've got a lot of rules for someone who doesn't respect others," she said, raising her brows at him. "Why should I bother?"

She had him, and she knew it. Draco couldn't find an answer that wouldn't allow her to bring the the kiss.

They locked eyes. She held his stare, tilting her chin up defensively. Out of nowhere, he had the urge to kiss her, and _hard_. He wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen and bruised, a sign that she was his and his alone. There was a terrifying second where he found himself pitching forwards, hands itching to grab her, but caught himself, shocked.

 _What the fuck was that?_ He stepped back. Granger didn't appear to have noticed--she was looking at him oddly, and for a moment, he was afraid she knew what he had been thinking. The thoughts persisted. He shook his head sharply and she looked at him like he'd grown another head.

"Do as you like," he said, and walked away, leaving her in the glare of the firelight reflected off the puddles.

* * *

When they got back to the common room Hermione stopped him before he could disappear again.

"What you did that day was unacceptable." He did not look at her. They both knew what she was speaking of. "If there's something bothering you you shouldn't take it out on me. The least you could do is ask someone before you kiss them."

"Stop pushing my buttons, then."

She ignored his comment. "I've got enough to focus on without having to add your behavior to the list. No matter what I think of you Dumbledore thinks you deserve this position. Don't make me go tell him otherwise. I know we have our differences but I'm sure if we could just set those aside from time to time we can get all our duties done without clawing at each other's throats anymore."

He was looking at her now, no trace of emotion on his face despite the lifted corner of his lip. Smile or a sneer? Hermione could only guess.

"Fine," he said simply.

"Fine." She turned and entered her room, and Draco remained in the common room for a moment longer before entering his own chambers.

* * *

Early the next afternoon, Hermione found herself in the Head Common Room. She'd left lunch early, and she had a free double period next, and was planning to go to the library for some light reading. She only had come back because she had forgotten a textbook she needed for a class. Book in bag; she proceeded to the door only to stumble upon Draco, who was just about to enter the Common Room himself.

He nodded in greeting. "Granger. I've just seen Dumbledore. He wants us to come up with a tutoring plan for the first years. And to begin organizing a Christmas event for the upper years."

Hermione bit her lip. "I was just heading to the library to begin some homework, maybe later?"

He rolled his eyes. "As _inspiring_ as your dedication to your marks is, Granger, this should be easy and could be done in no time. I was all for doing it myself but Dumbledore was keen on me finding you so we could work on it together. If you're so set on going to the library, I'll go with you." His words were curt, but his tone was not mean.

"Alright," Hermione said. Draco stopped to drop off some books in his room and then followed her as she stepped out of the Common Room and led the way in silence to the library.

 _We'll just get this over with and then I'll have my peace_ , she thought.

Upon entering the library, however, Hermione was dismayed to see every table in sight was occupied. It seemed the lower years had some sort of big exam, each table was buried in papers and books, surrounded by their worried little faces set in concentration.

Draco looked around the library, scanning the room for an empty table. No luck.

He turned to Hermione, who seemed to be thinking deeply on something, biting on her lower lip

"It's packed, Granger. There's no room here. We're better off in the head dorm." He was about to take a step towards the doors when she stopped him.

"We came all this way," she said firmly. "There must be _one_ unoccupied table."

"Unlikely," he said, looking around, frowning.

"Wait. There is one place…" She seemed at war with herself over something, but apparently she had made her decision for she set her jaw and beckoned him to follow her, walking off at a fast, determined pace.

Draco followed her deep into the dark recesses of the library, wondering what this was all about. The bookcases grew older and the selection of the books in them were the same way. Funny, he had never been so far back into the library before. In fact, no one ever came all the way back here (except _her_ , of course), and suddenly it occurred to him she might still be angry at him for kissing her, and could be luring him back here to hex him or something. His hand hovered by his pocket, ready to snatch out his wand at a moment's notice.

 _Why am I doing this?_ Hermione was asking herself. She was taking Malfoy to her most favorite place in all of Hogwarts, a place her own best friends hadn't been to, or even knew about. She still didn't know if this was a good decision, and was about to change her mind and turn back when she realized they had reached their destination.

"This is my study space," she said somewhat lamely, not knowing what else to say.

" _Your?"_

She shrugged. "No one else comes here."

Hermione watched him through the side of her eye. The way he was looking at her and at the place, she knew he suddenly understood her indecision to bring him here.

 _Interesting_...Malfoy eyed the little area with great curiosity. It was a quaint place, cozy and comfortable, with the light streaming in from the stained glass set the little nook aglow with different colors. This place was so isolated from everyone else and the rest of the library, it was no wonder she spent nearly all her waking hours here. It was an ideal place for relaxing. It was perfect for someone like her.

"So this is where you come to disappear so often."

She frowned.

"A little peace seems unobtainable sometimes in this castle."

Hermione suddenly felt naked, as if she'd bared her soul to him, and she didn't like it at all. This had been a bad idea, but there was no turning back now. Squaring her shoulders, she marched to the table and pulled out her seat, dropping her schoolbag onto the table. Draco lingered before the table, but her raised brow summoned him forward and he smoothly sat down in his own seat directly in front of her, placing his bag on the table. Annoyed, Hermione frowned slightly at his seating choice-she'd rather hoped he would have sat a bit farther away, but she didn't want to be rude or start another argument. As long as he didn't touch her again she would tolerate it.

"I already came up with a tutoring program, so if you don't mind, you can begin on the Holiday event." He handed the piece of parchment over to her, his large hand glowing in the colored light. Hermione took out her quill and some blank parchment, and began to brainstorm.

"I think a Christmas ball would do nicely," Hermione mused. "The Yule Ball in fourth year went well, why not have another?"

Draco nodded. "We'll need to book a band and make a note to ask Dumbledore where we can get decorations."

"Right," said Hermione as she wrote it down. "Hagrid always gets the trees, I'll ask if he and Professor Grubblyplank can do something with the gardens." She ignored the face Malfoy pulled when she mentioned the half-giant.

Together, they wrote down a list of things they needed to do in preparation for the ball. After that they went over the tutoring programs, she gave input on that as well and then they were done.

Draco packed up his bags and made to leave, not looking at her.

"I'll see you tonight for patrols," he said, and was off.

Hermione's shoulders sagged in relief and she let out a sigh. She'd felt so uncomfortable with him here, it was as if he knew one of her deepest secrets or had walked in on her having a bath. Even though they had not exchanged one harsh word or comment, she still felt on edge. Nothing bad had happened but she couldn't help but thinking she would regret ever having brought him there.


	6. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter and co belong to JKR, not me.

 

The loud ramble and clatter of the students and the dinner utensils filled the air around the large room, laughter and the voices of her schoolmates filled her ears pleasantly. Hermione chewed absently on her steak and kidney pie, watching as Seamus dared Ron to see how many dinner rolls he could fit into his mouth. Harry was looking on with a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes, counting out each roll that was added. He caught Hermione's eye and grinned. Hermione smiled back and sipped her pumpkin juice, looking further down the Gryffindor table.

Ginny and Michael Corner were in a heated argument, whispering angrily to each other, Neville wasn't eating at all, he'd propped up a thick Herbology volume up on the table, and was reading it very closely, his nose almost touching the pages. He'd mentioned how Professor Sprout had given it to him days ago, and had carried it everywhere since, his eyes glued to its contents. Hermione smiled and looked on. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to be talking about a certain boy in the Ravenclaw table; they turning to send him coy smiles and flirtatious little waves of their fingers. The boy took one look at them and turned away, shaking his head. Hermione looked to down at her plate to hide her smirk.

The pressure of a hand on her shoulder made her jump. Hermione looked behind her to see who it was.

Cormac McLaggen looked down at her curiously.

"What did you jump for? Did I scare you?"

"No-I was just thinking of something else," she said. He pulled his hand back and she turned to face him. "It's there something I can help you with?"

"I've got a question for you," he said, "but it's too loud to talk here."

"We can step outside for a moment," she suggested, and he agreed.

"I'll be back," she gestured to Harry, who nodded but stared at Cormac rather suspiciously. Hermione stood and led Cormac outside.

Draco watched as that arrogant Gryffindor followed the Head Girl out of the Great Hall. Unconsciously, the grip on his knife tightened, as he watched the door close behind them. He had never liked that McLaggen bloke. The smug look on his face as he'd placed his hand on the witch's shoulder irked him. Not to mention his shady reputation with the female population of Hogwarts.

_Not like I care about Granger, but if something happens to her I'll never hear the end of it from the others._

"Something on your mind?" Blaise Zabini had dropped down on the bench beside him.

Draco shook his head. "None of your business." He stole a quick glance at the great doors through indifferent eyes, and then back to Blaise, who'd piled his plate high and had begun eating.

"What's it like living with Know-It-All Granger?" Blaise asked through bites of his meal. "Has she driven you out yet?"

"She'd be hard-pressed to get me out of this position," Draco said haughtily. "Though I won't say she's not trying."

"How?" Blaise poured himself some water.

"You've seen what she's like in class. Try living with that."

"You'll excuse me for this, but I still can't believe you were chosen for Head Boy," Blaise said, shaking his head. "We all thought that that Justin-Finch Fletchely would get it."

Draco located him at his table, struggling to find a dignified way to eat his pasta.

"If he came up and asked for it, I'd let him have it."

_Granger would like that. He's polite enough. They get on well._

He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"See, you say that but I don't believe it," Blaise was saying.

"You're right. She doesn't want me there, but I won't leave just to make her comfortable."

"So you'll stay out of spite. You stubborn ass."

Draco smirked. "You'd do the same."

"Oh, naturally."

Blaise focused on eating. Draco scanned the Gryffindor table. Granger was not back yet. He kept his eye on the door as he ate.

* * *

 

Hermione felt Cormac's hand on her back. She wasn't sure how she felt about this; she normally didn't like being touched so familiarly by someone she barely knew, but as the touch didn't seem inappropriate in any way she let it slide.

Cormac turned to her. "You should come with me to Hogsmeade next week."

Hermione looked perplexed. "Oh-I thought this was a school matter."

"What did you think I was going to ask? That I needed help with Transfiguration?" he asked teasingly.

"Well, yes."

He chuckled. "We can fit that in, too, if you like. The Three Broomsticks is a jolly place, we'll have fun."

He smiled and reached out, smoothing his hand over her hair. Again, Hermione bristled at the contact, and turned her head away to make a point. He retracted his hand, nonplussed.

"Why ask me?" she asked. "I reckon Parvati would have been glad if you'd asked her."

"Don't play dumb, Hermione. You're the prettiest of all the girls in Gryffindor, and those brains of yours don't take away from the presentation, I assure you. None of the other girls look half as well as you, and they couldn't come close to catching you in class."

She frowned.

"That's not a nice thing to say. You don't have to put someone else down to pay a compliment."

"It's the truth." He laughed. "Don't pretend this is all a surprise, I've seen the way you look at me."

Hermione flushed. "That doesn't mean I fancy you."

"Well, you can still give it a try."

She crossed her arms. "I don't think I want to."

His smile fell slightly. "You think or you know?"

"I'm sure I don't want to," she said firmly, and he stepped away. "Honestly, Cormac, I'm not interested in you romantically, sorry."

She didn't know what to do, so she held out her hand to shake his. He didn't. Her eyes trailed up to his face, she was surprised to see he looked very displeased. "I hope we can still be friendly, at least," she said.

"See you in class," he muttered angrily, and walked away.

 _Oh, what a baby_.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and headed to her dorm.

* * *

 

Draco had been writing a Transfiguration paper when she'd walked in, jaw set, eyes wounded and angry. She stomped over to the chintzy armchair and sat down with a huff, drawing her knees under her chin. Such an impulsive, childlike move. It made him want to laugh but his curiosity got the better of him. It was only out of his curious nature that he wanted to know what had happened between her and McLaggen. Nothing else.

"Bad day?" he asked casually over the top of the book he was reading.

Their eyes met briefly and she nodded angrily before turning away, her braid falling over her shoulder. He wanted to ask about the other boy, but then she would find out that he'd been watching her so he bit his lip and buried his nose back into his book. He immersed himself in the passage he had been reading before she had entered, seeking the information he needed for his paper.

"Malfoy?"

He slung his arm over the back of his chair and turned to face her.

"What?"

He fixed her with a hard stare. She seemed nervous and embarrassed. Her eyes were downcast and she bit her lip as she fiddled with the end of her braid, apparently thinking hard over something but finding no answers. The action brought his attention to her mouth, her lips pink from her teeth biting into them. The sudden and wholly surprising desire to kiss her again flooded through him, like he had felt before, and he was too busy thinking about that when he realized she'd asked him something and was staring at him expectantly.

"Hm?" he asked, mentally kicking himself.

 _Fool_.

She looked at him, annoyed and flustered. "Never mind."

She got up and made to enter her room when he called her back, asking her to repeat her question with an irritated voice.

"Why do boys act like such children when a girl rejects their advances?"

Malfoy wanted to laugh again. So McLaggen had asked her out, then. And she'd said no. He didn't like it, but Draco felt relieved.

 _That imbecile shouldn't have asked her out in the first place_.

And then he caught himself thinking those things and mentally kicked himself again, but harder this time. It didn't matter to him who Granger went out with, he simply shouldn't care. The only reason he cared in this instance was because he simply didn't like that McLaggen boy. He was annoyingly overconfident and ugly to boot.

"It seems your special lad thinks very highly of himself and couldn't handle it."

"Why get so angry, though?"

"You'll have to ask him. Not everyone has the same reason."

"Hm." She lingered at her door.

Draco put down his book. "I hope you don't take this as invitation to come to me whenever you've got boy troubles."

"As if I'd want to talk about that with you," she said.

Draco smirked. "Yet here you stand."

She scowled and shut herself into her room.

* * *

 

It began to snow the next weekend, the excitement of it all drew the students out of the sleepy school in droves, and soon, the grounds were full of enchanted snowballs seeking prey; magically animated snowmen walking about the grounds and an impromptu game of Quidditch between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff using only snow balls, which ended quickly and disastrously as it had not been properly thought out.

The first trip to Hogsmeade took place, and the students who were eligible wasted no time in making the trek down to the village, walking merrily through the snow with their friends.

Hermione looked out at the grounds from her perch on the steps of the main entrance. Fat snowflakes drifted lazily down, landing on her hair, blending into the white ground. The cold was delicious even though she was shaking, she adjusted her snug hat and scarf and proceeded to walk about the grounds, looking for a familiar face.

A hard ball of snow hit her shoulder and she gave a small shriek of surprise, quickly looking around to catch who had thrown it. There was no one there, so she walked on, suspicious. Another caught her in the back, and she whirled around, curls flying, to catch the perpetrator. Still no one. Neville and Luna were creating some sort of snow figure nearby, but she knew it hadn't been them. Everyone else around her was engaged in their own event, no one was looking at her.

Hermione sensed movement behind her, whipped out her wand, and cast a quick fire charm. The snowball that had been seconds away from hitting her vaporized mid-air. Hermione twirled her wand and tucked it back into her pocket with a tiny smile.

The muffled sound of clapping brought her attention back up, where Harry and Ron stood, impressed by her skill. "I knew it was you two," she said, and gave them both a fierce hug along with a small smack to the side of their heads.

"But it didn't stop you from squealing, now, did it?" Ron asked, grinning. Harry laughed, earning a jab in the ribs from Hermione, who glared at them but ended up laughing anyways. They looped their arms together and began to trudge across the grounds, constantly ducking from the flying debris. A while later they reached Hogsmeade, laughing and chatting merrily as they entered The Three Broomsticks.

* * *

 

Draco looked out at the school grounds from inside the Head Common Room. It had gotten much darker outside, and most of the students had already headed back into the school, weary and cold. He didn't know why he was staring out the window still; he'd been standing here for a half hour, pale eyes glued to the grounds. He was waiting for something, or someone. He didn't know what.

Running a hand through his hair, he picked up his cup of tea with the other and drank, ignoring the pain from the scalding liquid as it ran down his throat. The heat from the cup fogged up the glass; he wiped it away. Much of the school grounds were visible from where he stood, the white sea of snow and darkness of the forest beyond, the grey sky stretched taut over it all, and three small figures moving towards the entrance of the castle. It didn't take too long to figure out who those three were. Weasley was not fond of hats, apparently. The red of his hair was as bright as fire in the surrounding white. Potter was a little harder to place but Draco recognized him the second he caught sight of his worn and ill-fitting coat.

That only left her. He looked at the third figure and indeed it was her, sporting the hat he had seen her create out of yarn. She was running behind Potter and Weasley, they seemed to be racing each other, streaking through the snow, raising their legs high to work through the snow.

 _Idiots_. Did they not notice they were surrounded by snow and ice? The moment he'd finished that thought Granger slipped and fell into a pile of snow. Her curls had escaped from her hat, splaying over her face. The boys rushed back to her, obviously worried, but stood and laughed when they caught sight of her belly heaving with laughter. Her head was thrown back, mouth wide open, and even from the distance he was at, watching through the window, he could see her breath come out in puffs from her lips. Potter helped her up, and the trio slowly resumed their pilgrimage to the castle, more slowly this time.

Draco turned away, finishing the last of his tea. It wasn't as hot now and soothed his burnt tongue. Slowly, he unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it off, draping it over the nearest char. Pushing the sleeves of his black dress shirt up, he picked up his cup of tea and saucer, and walked over to the tiny kitchenette just as the portrait entrance swung open and she walked inside.

Cheeks rosy from the sudden heat of the castle, eyes bright with happiness and with a small skip in her step she went directly to the coat rack, humming softly to herself. Draco's eyes never left the bright witch as she shimmied out of her coat and neatly hung up her scarf, and turned to dust a bit of ice off her boot. She noticed him for the first time as she stood back up and blushed. Draco said nothing. She gave him a polite smile and said 'goodnight' as she walked into her room. He nodded at her in response and rinsed out his dishes in the small sink and turned to face the coat rack, drying off his hands with a clean cloth. He stared at the piece of furniture for a moment, and then, before he knew what he was doing, he was standing before it, bringing her scarf to his nose, inhaling her scent.

Her scent was _so_ intoxicating, how had he not noticed before? It made his head feel light and pleasant, sending a delicious thrill down his body as he rubbed the knitted fabric against his skin. Old books and lavender and jasmine, that was what Granger smelled like, and it was wonderful. Never had he come across a smell like this one before, and he wondered what her skin might taste like. Shivers ran down his body as he inhaled again, letting his mind wander despite his better judgement. For just this once.

He imagined her hands, those pale, perfect hands, running up and down his body, across his skin. Imagined them running through his hair, over his lips, nipples, and pictured her small fingers ghosting over his cock, running up and down its length. He thought of her lovely eyes, wide and brown, staring back at him in defiance and fear, those trembling pink lips he so wanted to taste again. He'd only had one small taste of the witch and somehow he had become addicted, he wanted to kiss her; devour her. What had she done to him?

And then the fire popped and he jumped, startled into releasing the knitted garment, breathing hard. Her door to his right beckoned to him and with pleasure he envisioned her in her bed. His groin felt tight, aching for the little witch to whom the scarf belonged.

Draco looked at the fallen scarf with a mixture of disgust and lust, and kicked it away from him with one fluid motion of his foot, sending it flying over to a chair across the room. He threw his suit coat onto the table and almost ran into his room. He needed either a cold shower or a good wank, and fast. If he didn't get her out of his system now, he would regret it.

* * *

 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying not to glance to her right. The Muggle Studies Professor had his back turned to the class, helping a student with their work. Cormac was sitting next to her, cold and unfriendly. She'd tried to greet him when she saw him, but he'd only glared at her and looked away. Hermione was mildly upset, but also annoyed. He was acting like Ronald had acted in third year when the whole Scabbers ordeal had happened.

He was acting like a prat just because she'd turned him down. She would have accepted had he gone about it in a less insulting manner. A small crease appeared between her brows as she thought. She didn't consider herself beautiful but she knew she wasn't horribly ugly either, and besides, brains mattered more than looks! It was her intelligence that she prized most. What if she was plain? She would still have her smarts so she wouldn't care. Cormac had fancied her only because she happened to be attractive as well as intelligent, and that was what bothered her.

The bell rang at that moment, startling her, and she hurried to pack up her things. Cormac stood and brushed past her rudely. She sighed angrily.

* * *

 

They were heading down to the dungeons again to patrol, the ancient castle sat eerie and dark, groaning ominously down in its depths. The only sounds were those of their feet and the flickering flames on the torches along the wall. They walked in silence, and when they reached the stairs, he went first, too lost in his thoughts to allow her to pass first. Unfortunately, she didn't notice for she was also lost in thought, her brain entirely focused on her Ancient Runes essay which she was re-translating inside her head. As consequence of not paying attention, she hardly realized when she skipped a step and fell into him, bringing him down to the ground.

Draco had been halfway down the steps when a curious scuffling noise caught his attention and he turned round only to have something collide with him so roughly the air was knocked out of his lungs in a harsh groan. He was surprised, monumentally so, to find himself on the ground with a gasping Granger lying flush against him, her palms clenched against his chest. It took him a moment to realize she had fallen down the steps, his back hurt from having slammed onto the ground.

Granger herself seemed not to have realized what had happened just yet, she was still gasping for breath and her body trembled. Quickly enough, her eyes cleared and she realized she perceived him underneath her, and those beautiful brown eyes widened and her lips parted. He fought to contain his grin as she began to splutter and apologize, flitting her hands over his head worryingly, checking for an injury. He ignored her ramblings, only focused on her body on top of his. The weight of her on him, the way she was unknowingly straddling him, her thigh brushing against his crotch every now and then, causing the slightest yet most delightful friction. He could feel himself begin to harden, and it took great effort for him to think of something else. He wanted to throw her down beneath him and shag her senseless. But she was still apologizing, her hands on his arms. He had to get her off of him before he did something he would regret later.

He quickly reached up, caught her wrists and she finally ceased her noise, looking at him concernedly.

"I'm fine. Get off me." She visibly relaxed at his statement, but immediately tensed again when she saw the position they were in. She blushed hard as she jerked her wrists away, and stood, not meeting his eye.

He stood up, and silently evanescoe'd the dust of his suit. She still wasn't looking at him, just fixing her hair where her curls had escaped from the bobby pins she'd stuck into her hair. She caught him looking at her, a faint pink staining her cheeks, but she didn't look away, and he impatiently gestured for her to get a move on. She narrowed her eyes and stalked off, not bothering to speak for the rest of the evening.

She whistled again that night, but softly, so he could hardly hear it. Several songs he didn't recognize, but they sounded cheerful--or they would have, had not the echoing given them a warped effect.

He watched her the whole time, recalling how her body had felt. With every day that passed he found himself thinking of the strange witch more and more and he would have been alarmed if he paid any attention to his thoughts. Since their agreement some months ago there had not been a single incident between them and he knew changing that was not a good idea, but as much as he tried he could not deny to himself that he wanted her. Her, of all people! It was irony at its finest, it was laughable, he would have laughed until his voice was gone if the matter weren't so serious.

The girl was like an infection-she was the needle and he had pricked himself with it-now she was in his veins, coursing through him with every breath and it was both exhilarating and terrifying that she had poisoned him so. What was he going to do now that he was stricken?

Completely unaware to the tormented thoughts of her peer, the Head Girl walked on until they were both back inside their common room and she bid him goodnight. Suddenly full of an out of place anger, Draco mumbled his reply and shut himself off in his room, and lied on his bed, stroking himself, thinking of how her body had felt on top of him. Release came easily. He wished he had kissed her. He was dying to taste her again.

 


	7. Bird Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to Harry Potter belongs to its creator JK Rowling.

She was curled up in the window nook in the Head Common Room, knitting by hand a hat made of a deep plum. Her hair was loose, fanning over her shoulders and chest. The sunlight catching in her brown hair made it glow; making each strand look like it was made of a honeyed blonde. He wanted to pull it and hear her scream. His gaze traveled slowly down her form-she was wearing Muggle clothing, he hadn't noticed before. A simple dark green knit jumper and dark jeans. She wore long, multicolored socks and some thick boots.

It was a half hour before dinner; he was sitting at their table writing a letter to his mother, but had gotten distracted and now he was watching her. He had been for a while now. As insidiously as a siren she demanded his attention whenever she was near, and who was he to resist the sweet call? Was he even strong enough to? The answer had proved time and time again to be in the negatives. Ever since they had come to that 'truce' he had stayed right away from her, believing it was best but little by little she drew him in, and his resistance almost gone, he continued to succumb.

What had he learned from all his observations?

That she was remarkably similar to a bird: surrounded by an air of delicacy, but strong and extremely intelligent. Every movement she made was graceful-her heavy curls danced with the smallest shake of her head, the way she walked, how she moved her hands-fascinating. Her laugh he compared to bells sounding; high and beautiful. Every time he heard it he wanted to capture it as soon as it left her white throat and store it for his ears only. He knew sometimes she could tell he was watching her; as any bird would when it realizes itself in the company of a stranger, she would tense up and freeze. Draco found her unease delicious.

She was flighty. Always moving, never really still. Her foot would tap a quiet rhythm on the floor, her fingers would twitch, her lips curved with secret smiles. Being the busybody she was, she always walked with purpose; but in her unguarded moments he'd notice she would lose the focus in her eyes and she would stare in rapture at the ceiling, the walls, anything, as if seeing it for the first time. Like she was taking in every minute detail. Like she was discovering wonderful secrets in everything.

And there was still her music.

The sweetest, purest sound he was sure he would ever hear. No being could make music like she. The sounds leaving her lips moved him so much that he often longed to join in but he always held back, letting the little bird sing her song. Even when she was not there with him she was always there in her song. Wherever he went he fancied he could hear her, her music dancing around his ears, as if daring him to catch her.

It unsettled him, that he wanted her. He wanted to rake his hands through her curls, to kiss her, every part of her and claim her as his. Wanted to hear it from her own mouth, the blissful confirmation. Sometimes her voice haunted his dreams. Shaking his head lightly, he tore his gaze away from her and looked out the window. A heavy snow was falling, framing the diamond panes on the window behind her. Would it be too much to hope for a storm?

Minutes passed slowly in the moment of peace. The clicking of her aluminum needles lulled him and he closed his eyes, folded his arms and leaned back into his chair, stretching his legs out before him. Before he knew it he was asleep.

Hermione heard a soft snore and looked up from her project. She was surprised to see Malfoy was sitting at their table, dead asleep. She peered behind her through the window, and was surprised to see how dark it was outside.

Hermione checked the time and put down her work, flexing her hands. Dinner would be starting soon, and if she left now she could just make it. She tucked her nearly finished hat into her fabric shoulder bag and slowly walked over to the sleeping Slytherin.

 _He looks so peaceful_ , she thought. _Should I wake him?_

His face was relaxed and calm, his pale lashes resting on his cheekbones and if she looked close enough, she could barely make out the lines on his forehead from all that sneering and frowning he did. His chest rose and fell slowly, a strand of his pale hair was falling into his eyes.

She crept closer, unsure of what to do.

Things had been going well recently, considering the circumstances. Malfoy kept a frosty distance much of the time, except for when they had duties to perform, but she'd didn't quite mind. They only spoke each other when necessary, unless one or the other grew bored of the silence and broke it with an attempt at conversation, which usually didn't end well, though Malfoy didn't have any more outbursts and Hermione had to be satisfied with that, though she realized he had never apologized for the assault.

That there were less arguments between them was nothing to gloat over-neither was still comfortable with the other and Hermione often sensed an anger bubbling inside him that was directed at her. She often felt him watching her, and didn't know what to make of it, but as long as there was no repeat of the kiss she managed to ignore it just fine.

He spent more time in their dorm than she did. Hermione went to the Gryffindor common room as often as she could when she was not busy studying, preferring the company of her closest friends over Malfoy, who usually greeted her coldly, as if he resented her presence there, which he probably did.

They had met with Dumbledore again, and he'd been delighted to hear of their 'progress'. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him how things really were. Even if they weren't as bad as they'd been the first few days, there was little to no chance of any of it changing.

His features shifted, and he was frowning now, small beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His breathing quickened, and he began to mumble incoherently, something she couldn't quite understand, but it sounded urgent.

Hermione tipped her head and carefully took one step closer, reaching out to wake him when his grey eyes suddenly flew open and without thinking he snatched her arm and pressed her down backwards against the table, snarling. It happened so quickly she couldn't even cry out as her back slammed into the table, but she knew there would be bruises later. Her back throbbed with pain and she gasped, trying to find breath. He was gripping her arms and breathing hard, his orbs were still clouded with sleep and rage and whatever he had been dreaming about, and in her alarm she finally found her voice.

"Malfoy, stop! Let me go!" He froze at the sound of her voice, eyes clearing, and he looked down at her with surprise and anger, his sensuous lips parted slightly. Backing away, he led her away from the table, never letting go of her.

She was regarding him with wide eyes, but they held more concern than fear.

 _Damn Gryffindor._ He took a deep breath and pulled her closer to him, though she tried to break out of his grip, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"I don't know how your Muggle parents raised you, but you shouldn't bother someone who's sleeping." His voice was a little raspy from sleep, but as serious as ever.

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes at his demand, and looked him square in the eye. "It looked like you were having a nightmare. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Malfoy appeared a little taken aback. "I don't need your help. My rule still stands. Don't touch me."

Hermione shook her head. "So sorry, your Majesty. I'll remember that for next time." She gave a mocking curtsy and headed to the door. "Dinner starts in three minutes. And I'll thank you not to treat me like your inferior," she snapped. "Regardless of our lineage we both have magic in our blood and that makes us equal." She left, shutting the door a bit harder than necessary.

Malfoy stared after her angrily before shrugging on his robe. ' _It looked like you were having a nightmare...'_ Exactly what had he dreamt about then? The dream had been forgotten the second he'd touched her so it was useless trying to remember now. Picking up his letter, he scribbled a last line or two, stood and abruptly left the Head Common Room, heading towards the Owlery.

"Letter to your mother?" Blaise had joined him, striding quickly to catch up. Draco nodded.

They climbed up the narrow steps to the small tower. There was a young couple canoodling by the door, staring wide eyed at him as he stepped into the open tower.

"Leave." Draco snapped. They fled.

"You always did know how to strike fear in their little hearts," Blaise remarked, chuckling.

Draco shrugged. He motioned to a pristine white owl; it hopped down and he attached the letter to its leg. "To my mother. You know where she is," he murmured. The owl gave a hoot and took off. He watched it leave, sweeping his eyes along the white scenery.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with the Mudblood," Blaise commented, stroking an owl perched beside him. Draco stiffened.

"Need I remind you that I am Head Boy? She is Head Girl. Whether I want to or not I must spend a lot of time with her. You shouldn't even be complaining. You've been far too busy with Pansy from what I hear."

Blaise grinned, shrugging. "I wasn't complaining. She's pretty, for a Mudblood, you should have noticed by now. Have you tried to bed her yet?"

Draco closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, feeling the cold air surround him, shaking his head. The images came suddenly, of her body moving over his, her hands touching his face in concern, the day he'd kissed her, when she'd grabbed at his arm. The day he'd slammed her into the wall just outside of Dumbledore's office right after she'd slapped him. The dreams she had shown up in thereafter.

"The thought has come up once or twice."

_Every night, in your bed. Every morning, when you hear her wake._

Blaise smirked. "So what's stopping you?"

Draco gave Blaise a nasty look. "She's a Mudblood, Zabini. I would sully myself by fucking her. She's pretty enough, but not worth the trouble."

His friend didn't seem bothered. "I've done it before. I know my mother has had several Muggle lovers. No one of our kind seems to really care. Just as long as you don't _marry_ her or get her pregnant. Hell, even Pansy's done it, and you know how _her_ family is. It's just sex."

"And torturing someone with a Crucio is just tickling them with magic."

Blaise looked curious. "Do you think she's thought of it?"

"I know she hasn't. I'd put a hefty sum on her choosing a Blast-Ended Skrewt over me, and I'd do the same."

Blaise laughed. "I'd forgotten about those awful things. Still, I don't believe you. I think if she came to your door and asked you'd be ready at a second's notice. "

"She'd only ever do that if someone used an Imperius curse on her."

"Maybe if you weren't such a troll she'd actually consider it," Blaise said, snickering. Draco stared at him until he stopped laughing.

"Well, if she ever comes to her senses, be sure to woo her quickly before Potter or Weasley snatch her up."

I _t's a surprise they haven't already,_ Draco thought. _A witch like her..._

 _"_ If your mission goes well, perhaps the Dark Lord will gift her to you. He's done it before."

Draco stared out at the mountains and forests surrounding the school, not really taking it in. His mission. He'd almost forgotten about it, with all the recent events and all. It had been the only thing his father had spoken of during the summer, that it was upon him to restore glory to the Malfoy name, and that he was Voldemort's best hope.

The skin on his left forearm seemed to burn slightly as he thought of this, and he unconsciously pressed his arm against a stone support that held up an arch in the tower, wincing slightly as the cold bit through his clothing.

Granger as a gift... The idea was too tempting. He ignored the sudden flood of images that rushed forward. But he would have to work carefully to ensure success if he was to ask for her. The Dark Lord did not reward failure.

"Bit chilly out, isn't it." Blaise blew into his bare hands, shuddering for effect.

Draco nodded and turned away. "Let's go eat."

* * *

"Hermione, why's McLaggen glaring daggers at you? Is something wrong?" Ron spoke softly over Hermione's shoulder as she reclined in her armchair with _Hogwarts, a History_ on her lap.

They were in the Gryffindor Common Room, sitting by the fire. It was late and there were only a small handful of people still hanging about. Hermione looked over to where Ron was staring, and sure enough, Cormac, sitting on a table by the entrance looked away not a second later, scowling at the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories, aware he had been caught.

"Not really, he only asked me out and I said no. I suppose he's still quite upset over it, though I can't imagine why." Hermione said, flipping a page. Harry was dozing in a chair opposite her, glasses slightly askew, pieces of parchment slowly sliding off his lap.

"McLaggen asked you out?" Ron gaped at her, blue eyes wide and disbelieving, but snapped his mouth shut at the glare she sent him over the top of her book. He glanced back to the subject of their conversation, whose jaw twitched with anger.

"I don't like this. He looks more than upset. Maybe I should wake Harry and we'll talk to him…" Ron was worried, his fists clenching slightly as he hovered over her.

That was it, Hermione decided with a snap of her book. She stood and sat him down onto the chair she had risen from. "Ronald. It's alright. I can take care of myself and you know it. I don't want you and Harry worrying about this when you've clearly got a load of assignments to work on, ok? Now finish your Charms paper, I'm going to bed. See you at breakfast tomorrow!" she chirped, tucking her book under her arm, and walked quickly out of the common room and giving Cormac a wide berth before her friends could protest.

The second she was outside of the room she let out a small breath as she hurried to the Head Common Room, passing through several hallways and going up some flights of stairs until she reached her destination.

"Dancing Hippogriffs," she whispered to the portrait, and hopped into the room as the portrait swung open.

It was pitch black inside; she stumbled twice before setting her hand down on the table, which she bumped into in the darkness. The common room was so dark her eyes hurt as they frantically moved around, seeking light. She couldn't even see her own hands in front of her. She placed her book down onto what she assumed was the counter, and turned quickly as she sensed movement by the window.

She gave a small gasp as she saw a silhouette of a man standing by the window, the weak light from outside outlined his form. He wasn't facing her, that much she could tell. Rather, he was staring down, out into the grounds; his left arm was over his head, leaning on the wooden frame of the window.

"M-Malfoy?" she cursed herself for sounding so afraid. Clearing her throat, she called him again. "Why is it so dark in here? Why aren't the lights working?" she jumped as he responded, turning slowly to face her.

"It would seem Peeves has interfered with the charms placed in here, Granger. Either that or someone is playing a little joke on us."

He sounded cold and detached, as always, which didn't surprise her. But there was something else there. A slight strain to his voice, like he was in some small amount of pain, or was holding himself back from doing something. It set her on edge, but she carefully maneuvered her way towards where she assumed the fire place was, bringing out her wand.

"Lumos!"

Nothing happened. Hermione frowned.

"It doesn't work, I've already tried." She could almost feel him standing behind her, his cold breath stirred her hair.

"Well, have you tried telling anyone? Does Dumbledore know? Filch?" He answered in the negative. She let out a small noise of impatience. It was Friday! She was not going to spend the rest of her weekend in the dark with an oddly behaving Malfoy!

"The Headmaster is out on undisclosed business, and Filch doesn't care. Too busy hunting Peeves at the moment." He inhaled, a little more deeply than he would have needed to, seeing as he was standing just behind her. Hermione felt the fine hairs on her arms prickle.

He took a step forward, and his solid body was pressing into hers just so slightly from behind. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin, and suddenly she felt how cold it was in the room with the fire gone. She was sure she would have been able to see her breath had the light been restored. Hermione quickly turned to face him, walking backwards to the door that led to her room, or rather, where she thought it would have been. Her other four senses suddenly heightened as she heard his muffled footsteps on the thick carpet. She couldn't see him but she was damned if she was wrong. He was following her.

Perhaps if she didn't acknowledge... _whatever_ he was doing he would snap out of it.

"I'm going to bed now, Malfoy."

 _Soon as I find that blasted door_ , she grimaced. Hermione inched backwards, reaching out behind her to the wall. If she found the wall, she could navigate herself to her room.

His voice came from the surrounding darkness, "Suit yourself, Granger, provided you can _find_ your room."

 _Was that a threat?_ _What is up with him?_

Hermione shivered, creeping along the dark as she narrowly avoided some heavy object. Felt like a trunk, or a potted plant. Hermione could feel him getting closer, her heart sped up, hands shook, and just as she tried to turn in a different direction, her feet got tangled in something long and slightly cold on the floor. With a small shriek she fell, landing on her side on the carpet. Pain shot up her left arm and through her shoulder, making her drop her wand somewhere on the carpet with a soft thud. Fighting to hold back tears, she scooted backwards, feeling around for her wand as she felt him kneel down in front of her.

She felt his hands wrap around her stockinged ankles and gasped, defensively kicking out at him, trying to shake his hands and the blasted object that had made her fall off.

He cursed. "Damn it, Granger. I'm only trying to _help_."

It sure didn't seem like he was trying to help, though, because as he finished his sentence he tightened his grip round her ankles and yanked her closer to him. Hermione slid on her backside, reaching out with her hands to shove his hands away.

"Let me go, you oaf!" she pawed at his hands, infuriated by the low chuckle that escaped his throat. She swiped at the back of his hands with her nails, and heard a hiss of pain before she was lying back down on the floor with Malfoy pinning her arms and legs onto the floor with his own body.

"I _said_ let go!" her voice was high and shrill but she didn't care so long as he got well away from her.

Her heart raced, her skin crawled. She did not like this intrusion, not at all. Twisting and shoving, she tried to get the wizard off of her, but that was a daunting task. He was simply too heavy; his strength was greater than her own, something she had been forced to learn too many times, and did not care to be reminded of again.

He dragged the back of his wounded hand over her cheekbones, smearing a line of his own blood over her skin. She twisted her face away from his grasp, trying to bite down on his fingers as they brushed slowly over her lips.

"Damn you, you silly bint. I was only trying to help and look what you've done. Couldn't put your pride aside for one moment, could you?" he snarled at her as he reached down between their bodies.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but exhaled sharply as she felt his cold hand trail down, mere millimeters from her robes. She began to struggle again, words coming out in jumbled heaps.

"No-What are you _doing_! Get your hands off!"

Herehand connected with his jaw, pushing him away, fingernails digging into his cheek. Draco swore and untangled the scarf from her legs. She was still thrashing, trying to kick out at him, but stopped once he leaned back over and dropped the scarf onto her chest.

"I-Is that my scarf?" she whispered, trying to reach out for it.

"Be more careful with your things, will you, Granger?" He felt no need to explain what her scarf had been doing on the floor in the first place, he simply stood up and left her lying there, with that damned scarf on her chest.

She heard him shut the door to his room, and suddenly, almost like a miracle, the light came. Hermione winced and screwed her eyes shut as the force of the light blinded her momentarily. She vaguely heard the fire crackle, as if it had been going all along.

In an embarrassed rush Hermione stood and threw her scarf at his door. "That wasn't funny, Malfoy!"

She was met with nothing but silence.


	8. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

Chapter Eight: Touch

He walked through the dark halls, the sound of his footsteps echoing loudly around him. The hour was late, the halls were deserted and menacing in their newfound emptiness, the atmosphere seemed heavy. Not a soul lingered in sight, all the students having gone to bed hours ago. Draco pushed a hand through his hair, glaring at the floor. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his head ached, and his feet ached from standing for so long, from staying up all through the night but it was necessary in order for him to not be seen around here.

Crabbe and Goyle had left already, sullen and whiny over the fact that they'd had to transform into younger students to keep watch for him. The corner of his mouth lifted, but he walked on. He'd found the old room extremely useful-in particular, an old wardrobe that he knew he could fix for his mission. The thing was badly damaged, though. It would take some time, perhaps months, just to repair the damage and tweak it for his purposes. A daunting task for a student, but Draco had faith in his abilities and knew he was capable of accomplishing it.

Upon reaching the portrait, he muttered the password and stepped inside to a dark common room. It had been a week since the incident of the light-less room. There was still no answer as to why or how it had happened. Draco didn't care enough to know. A week since he had last touched her and in the days that followed he had been craving his next fix.

Lost in thought, he absently ran his fingers over the fading red scratches on his left hand she had given him and walked over to her door, straining his ears. He could hear nothing but the crackling fire and that was satisfying enough, to know she was there and not with other company, whoever it might be.

Jealousy was becoming a problem. Draco loathed seeing her sit with her two friends. With them she was vibrant, happy, truly herself-and when she came back to him it was like she put a mask over that side of herself. All he got was the no-nonsense Granger, the one who had stopped saying good morning and good night, the one who smiled only if he made a comment she planned to tear down. He knew she sensed his hostility sometimes and tried to keep it under constraint-he engaged her in conversation now and then but she didn't have much interest, and if he pressed for more she would look at him with shrewd, analytic eyes and he stopped for fear of being transparent, and she would take refuge in the library soon after.

He had already watched her in secret at the library once. Just to see what she did. Nothing remarkable happened, but he walked away with the sense that he had unwittingly taken something from her, and that like with the other incidents between them, he felt not a jot of remorse.

Her friends did not deserve her. She cared deeply about them, evidenced in the way she was always giving advice and reprimanding them when they were not at their best, which was just about every day. Weasley, the stubbornest of the trio, rolled his eyes at her and often wheedled her into fixing his work for him. Draco hated that she always relented and he would thank her and go back to eating, or lollygagging around. Then two days later her would make some rude comment towards her and she would tell him off and end up in the dormitory, shut up in her room.

Potter, on the other hand, defended her and clearly listened to her, though sometimes he did it grudgingly. Draco saw a trust between him and Granger that they did not share with Weasley, though it was obvious the two males were closer with each other when she was not around. He wondered if she knew. She had to. There were also all those rumors that had been going on since Fourth year, around the time of the Tri-Wizard Tournament-all the articles in the Daily Prophet. Now, the Daily Prophet was pure tripe, the whole lot of it, but they were accurate in pin pointing Potter and Granger's relationship. They had something, those two, and he knew it, though most likely the two didn't know it yet themselves.

If it weren't for her they would have had a rough time of it hanging on in school. That she had devoted so much time and effort to saving their arses spoke well of her, but he wondered sometimes if she only stayed with them because she had no one else to go to if she finally decided she had had enough.

Hell, he had done it to Crabbe and Goyle and he was better off for it. What point was there to keeping them around when he had grown stronger and learned to defend himself better? There was no further need them so he went on his way happily and they remained stagnant and clueless. Draco had no group of constant friends and didn't want one. He preferred solitude much of the time, but never said no to an eager witch or some conversation from certain individuals of his House.

The dorm he shared with Granger still housed their tension. Her wariness of him had not worn off either, but as she wasn't completely unbearable, Draco found he didn't much mind. He himself was often in a foul mood; his desire for her and his forcing himself to keep a distance being the leading cause. It was a fair trade, really. Even when they managed to get along there was still strain in their behavior towards each other-she, striving to keep cool-headed and civil; he, fighting the constant urge to kiss her.

Most mornings she got up much earlier than him, and had a habit of humming to herself when getting ready. He would wake to the sound of it every time; the running of the water and her voice slightly above it, faint, but comforting. At times he found himself thinking she did it on purpose, just to mess with him. She had to know the effect she had on him.

This thought drove him to twist the knob and open her door quietly as possible. There was the slightest creak-he froze, waited, and when she continued to slumber he entered slowly, taking off his shoes by the door.

The room was semi-lit by a fiery red glow emanating from the fire, illuminating the young woman sleeping soundly on the large four poster bed set in front of the fireplace. Greedily, his pale eyes raked over her form; over her lashes resting against her cheekbones, her straight, perky nose, those pink lips brushing against her pillow with every breath she took. The curve of her hip, her body was tangled in the thick crimson duvet, her legs jutted out from underneath, hands tucked underneath her pillow. Dark brown curls had been tied up into a messy bun, though errant curls poked out, framing her face and wilting down to her neck.

Draco stood and stared, entranced, as the girl stretched and turned, her back now facing him. She gave a sigh so soft it was nearly swallowed by the sounds of the fire. He closed the space between himself and her bed, and shrugged off his jumper and shirt, ripped off his tie, and sent them by magic to his room, along with his shoes. Taking care not to disturb her, he crawled onto her bed and she stirred, frowning slightly as she began to wake.

Quickly, he brought his wand out and spelled her into a deep sleep, watching as she became limp and dropped back down onto her bed almost lifelessly. He reached out, lean muscles rippling, and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her flush against him. The heat of her body against his made him shudder. Already his groin was stiff-her head burrowed into his chest, lips grazing his collarbone. He shuddered again, a jolt of pleasure ran down his body, and brought her even closer, locking his strong legs around hers, and wrapping her own arms around his neck. She gave another little sigh and went still again, her warm breath seeming to penetrate his skin.

The contact...

_Finally._

How good it felt. His hands held onto her tight, as if fearing her flesh would turn into nothing but an effigy made up by a dream.

Her breasts pressed softly against his chest, her skin was smooth and dotted with birthmarks. Draco kissed her shoulder, her neck. He counted four on her arms, and two on her neck. He fell asleep wondering how many more she had under her pink nightgown.

* * *

Hermione stirred as the first rays of the sun hit her through the part in her curtains, which was strange, because she hadn't remembered leaving them that way before she'd gone to bed. Brushing it off as a kind act from the House Elves, she began to stretch, but stopped almost immediately. Something felt odd. Her lips, for that matter. They felt puffy and tender, and her own skin felt strange to her, as if she'd swapped bodies overnight, or as if someone had been caressing it only moments ago while she'd been sleeping.

Alarmed, she clambered out of her bed and looked around her room for any sign of intrusion. Her sharp sight brought nothing to conclusion. Except the curtains, everything else was just as it had been when she had gone to sleep. She should have felt reassured by this, but wasn't. There was a faint scent lingering around her, a faint, unrecognizable musk and freshly mown grass. Pine. Sniffing delicately, she couldn't tell if she was imagining it or not; it was so faint, and seemed to be fading now that she was aware of it. Rubbing the gooseflesh on her arms away, she peeled off her nightgown and headed for her shower.

* * *

 

 

* * *

He was at breakfast in the Great Hall, slicing up a green apple as Blaise nodded off into his porridge. Pansy was gossiping with Daphne and Astoria, throwing dirty looks at some Hufflepuffs across the room. He cut off a medium slice from his apple, the juice sliding down his fingers, and raised it to his lips just as the Head Girl walked in.

Memories of the previous night flooded his mind; her smooth, heavenly soft skin, her warm body pressed against his, her head buried in his chest, arms about his neck. Breasts softly pushing against his hard chest with every deep breath she'd taken.

He'd awoken with a painful erection, his hands tight around her waist. Staring into her sleeping face, he'd fantasized what her reaction would be should she wake up at that precise moment. His cock had hardened instantly, to the point of pain, poking between her joined thighs, but he kept himself still. No doubt the silly wretch would scream and hex him into oblivion; he was lucky she was still under his sleeping spell. He hadn't been able to stand it any longer, and had pressed his lips against hers, taking from them like he had done the first time.

She sighed into his mouth and he'd wanted more than anything to fuck her right then and there--but didn't. It would not be as satisfying. He wanted her to be awake whether she was willing or not and now was simply not the opportune moment. He needed to shower and dress for the oncoming school day, and Granger couldn't sleep forever, either. As much as he would have liked to leave her there as his own little treat for later, he got up quickly and parted her curtains just slightly, so once the sun strengthened it would fall across her sleeping form. He'd padded back to her, grabbed her by the throat and placed a hard, possessive kiss on her lips and left, ending her sleeping spell as he closed her door. He'd taken care of his problem in the shower, grasping his cock with a shaking hand, moving it up and down almost furiously. He'd come hard, panting in the steam of the hot water, the image of the sleeping girl in his mind.

Now, his grey eyes landed on the girl and his lips curved, relishing in the fact that she'd no idea that she had slept with him the night before. Had she noticed anything amiss?

She sat down next to the Weaselette, giving her a sunny smile as she reached for the toast. Her hair was loose, curls cascading down, framing her beautiful face. Draco slipped another piece of fruit into his mouth as she chatted with the red headed girl between bites of toast, throwing her hair over her shoulder, catching the attention of several boys nearby.  His grip tightened on his knife, his flesh turning white from the pressure. Stupid girl didn't even know how beautiful she was. His eyes swept around the hall and zeroed in on several blokes looking at her. Anger bubbled up inside him, rising to his chest and making him grip the knife even harder, digging the blade into his flesh. 

He felt the pressure and pain of the silverware biting into his palm, and was dimly aware of warm blood running down his arm, mixing with the apple juice. Releasing the knife with a clatter, he wrapped his handkerchief around his palm and shoved away from the table, stuffing another apple into his pocket just as Granger was leaving the Great Hall, clutching a set of books to her chest.

"Morning," she said tersely, not looking in his direction.

"Sleep well?" he asked, a devilish grin working itself onto his face. He shoved his hands in his pockets as they ascended the stairs.

Frowning, she looked up at him, a small crease between her dark brows. "What do you care?"

Shrugging, he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and raised his brows. "Just an innocent question, no need to hex me for it."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "I slept just fine," she said, giving him a suspicious look. "What, did you set off fireworks in the dorm last night? Why do you want to know?" 

"Calm down, Granger," he said. "I did no such thing. I actually spent the night most enjoyably in the company of a charming witch. I was quite sorry to leave her this morning."

"Ugh. Forget I asked." She shook her head, but paused a second later.

"Hang on-was this in our dorm?"

Draco rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten about her rule.

"Don't get your feathers aflutter," he said calmly. "My witch and I spent the night in the Slytherin dormitory."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "For your sake I hope you're telling the truth."

"Believe me, Granger," he said seriously. "I wouldn't dream of bringing another witch to our dorm."

_Not when a little bird calls so sweetly._

His smile was positively wolfish. Was he trying to embarrass her?

She looked away from him to face forward. "As long as you keep to my rule and I don't hear about it, I don't care what you do."

 _Done and done,_ he thought.

"Does the topic make you uncomfortable?" He raised his brow suggestively.

"Hardly," she stared back, undaunted. "I only think it's very inappropriate to speak of your intimate relations with another person you hardly know."

"But surely we're not strangers to each other, Granger." He took his injured hand out of his pocket to take a bite out of his precious apple.

"Well we aren't strangers, but we're definitely not friends either," she snapped, glaring at him. Her eyes took in his bloodied hand and she made a face.

"What happened to your hand?"

He looked at his wound impassively, then back up at her with the smallest bit of anger in his eyes.

"Bit of an accident with a knife. I'll mend it soon as I get to the common room."

She couldn't take her eyes off his hand. "But you're still bleeding! I could heal it, if you like"

She reached out, holding her wand with an Episkey on her lips when he practically jumped away from her touch.

"Remember my golden rule, Granger. Don't touch me." He walked off.

"I just wanted to stop the bleeding, Malfoy. You're dripping all over the floor."

 _"_ Is that what a non-stranger, non-friend would do?"

"You could get a serious infection if you don't dress that quickly, you know!"

"I'll heal it myself. I don't need your dirty paws on me."

She caught up to him.

"Your little rule hasn't stopped you from touching _me_ , though. If you don't want me to touch you, why do you go about slamming me into walls and-and _kissing_ me? Care to explain?"

She was blushing, but her embarrassment did not hinder her inquisition.

"Or is it a one way rule? You get to harass me as much as you like but I can't so much as tap you on the shoulder? You're a filthy hypocrite, Malfoy."

"Need I remind you, Granger, that the kiss was merely to shut you up. You should really consider keeping your trap shut every now and then, that little mouth of yours will get you into trouble one day." He leered at her as he spoke. "I admit, I may have lost my temper on more than one occasion, but don't forget that you provoked me in the first place, Mudblood, so stop playing the bloody victim."

"You're not answering my question!"

"Leave it be, Granger. I owe you no explanations."

"Like hell, you don't!"

They had reached the Head Common Room by then, and they climbed in with a stony silence between them. Hermione stalked off and sat before the fire, resuming her knitting, needles clacking angrily among the crackling of the fire. Draco held back a snort and entered his bathroom to dress his wound.

Draco pushed up his sleeve and stuck his left arm under the tap, which poured hot water over the cut, stinging his flesh as the water ran red down the drain. He grit his teeth and kept silent, eyes focused as the water cleared and he twisted the knob, the steam from the water rising in clouds around him. His palm ached, the slash in his flesh stung sharply, but he ignored the pain and trained his wand on the wound, muttering a first a cleaning charm and then a healing spell, and watched with unfocused eyes as the flesh came back together, leaving a faint pink line on his palm, as if he'd merely scratched at it with a quill.

He stood there a moment, leaning on the sink, staring at himself in the cloudy mirror. Grey eyes looked into grey eyes, his mouth set in a straight line. Strands of his blond hair were falling into his face, but he didn't care. He only thought of his mission and of the girl in the next room who wanted answers he wouldn't give.

As he re-entered the living room, he stopped at the doorway, watching her. Knitting abandoned on the floor, she was immersed in a worn text, eyes staring at the pages but not reading.

She was frowning, her sweet mouth puckered into a little pout that made him lick his own lips as he recalled her taste. A hard thud brought him back to the girl, who had slammed her book shut and let it fall to the ground. She stood, as If having made up her mind about something, and jumped when she caught sight of him already there.

"What, did you forget I was here?"

"I forgot I have class soon, actually."

He pretended to look surprised. "A first for you, I bet."

"Excuse me, I don't want to be late." Hermione shouldered her bag quickly and walked to the portrait, but he caught up just in time and stood in front of the door, blocking her exit.

"I haven't excused you yet, Granger." He said quietly, inspecting his hands as he spoke, leaning his tall frame against the door. Hermione's eyes narrowed, and making sure not to attract his attention, she grabbed her wand slowly, slipping it out from her pocket. There was no telling what he was up to.

"Let me through, Malfoy. I'm not missing my lessons because of you."

She attempted to rush past him, brushing her shoulder roughly against his, but he didn't budge. Instead, he caught her round her waist as she passed and she startled, trying to wrestle out of his grip.

Hexes flew out of her wand, sending bright jets and sparks of varying colors around the room. His arm shot out and knocked her wand from her hand, ignoring her cries of protest and anger.

"What's _wrong_ with you?"

She was shouting at him, beating her fists against his chest and arms but he didn't let go. Her scent enveloped him in a haze of lavender and cherry blossoms, arousing and intoxicating him at the same time. He pressed the struggling witch harder against his body, buried his face in her chocolate tresses and inhaled deeply.

She stilled at once. Confusion and alarm made her tense. His hand came to her cheek, he pressed her against the door roughly. Their eyes met. Hermione began to shake.

"No."

"Expelliarmus."

Her wand was torn out of her hand and flung across the room. Hermione stared after it, dumbfounded. How had she let that happen?

His other hand was around her neck, pushing her body firmly against the door. Hermione's body went cold as she understood his meaning. The cold vacancy in his gaze was as fascinating as it was frightening. He wouldn't break his stare. Her heart beat picked up until she feared it might implode in her chest. "Malfoy, I don't want this."The feel of his hand around her throat felt like it was searing itself onto her skin.

He came closer, eyes burning into hers. 

"Neither did I."

When he kissed her, hers arms rose automatically to push against his chest, but he gave a warning squeeze of her throat and whimpering, she froze, squeezing her eyes shut in fear. Malfoy groaned, ground himself against her. There was no mistaking his erection. Hermione gasped and tried turning her had away, her face overtaken with a mortified blush. His hands kept her in place. His mouth held hers hostage.

This time he was gentler than the first kiss, but the added threat of his hand around her throat made it no less traumatic. Using his fingers at the back of her neck, he caught some of her hair between them and used that to angle her head the way he wanted so he could kiss her better. She shook against him, hands at his shoulders, twitching in effort to stay still. He licked her lower lip, bit it hard enough to make her gasp loudly. His other hand roamed down her back to squeeze her bottom-she gave a shocked squeal, edging away from his hand. He yanked her closer, squeezing harder on her neck. Eyes wide, she struggled to breathe. He trailed his lips along her clavicle and she shuddered with disgust, her hands automatically shoving at his chest, and he froze. 

"Don't," he whispered ominously, and straightened, intent on kissing her again. 

This seemed to wake her-she pushed at him viciously, and as he staggered backwards she ran to collect her wand, finding it just as he balanced and went after her.

She pointed her wand at him. He stopped.

With all her might she reached up and slapped him across the face.

Shaking, Hermione backed away from him, standing behind the table. It was a struggle to breathe evenly. Her eyes were tearing up. He only stared, his cheek was pink with the slight mark of her hand and he advanced slowly towards her but stopped when she pointed her wand at him again, a curse ready on her lips.

They stayed that way for what seemed like ages, but neither one moved. He stayed impassive, stony as ever, his eyes never leaving her face. Her beautiful brown eyes shined with tears, a scarlet blush stained her cheeks.

The words came out of her mouth faster than he could hear them, and the next thing he knew there was a blazing pain in his cheek-first the left, then the right. He was forced backwards from the force of it. Hot blood trickled down his face, and almost dazedly, he touched the smarting cuts with his fingertips.

"Don't you _ever_ touch me again."

She was shaking so much she could hardly find the courage to snatch up her bag and walk a wide arc around him to reach the door, but somehow she did. He didn't turn to face her as she left, only stood there, eyes boring into the wall before him.

She walked slowly once she stepped out of the common room, but once she turned the corner she ran. Dropped her bag and ran, not even aware of where she was headed until she pushed open the door and found herself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Quickly she thanked the Gods that Myrtle hadn't decided to flood the loo again; she let out a small sob and locked herself into the nearest stall. She was dimly aware of the bell ringing for class to begin, but didn't leave. Didn't want to go to class. She had a perfect attendance record; surely her Professors wouldn't mind if she took a day off.

Shuddering, she wrapped her arms around herself, willing the tears not to fall, but they ignored her. Tightened her arms as her mind raced, questions raced through her mind. Her lips stung, and the tears kept falling. Her head hurt; she leaned against the stall and sat on the covered toilet seat, drawing her knees up to her chest.

* * *

The halls were full, streaming with hundreds of students on their way to their next class. Pushing a rebellious curl behind his ear, he walked quickly to his next lesson. It hadn't been a good day for him. His potion had exploded when he'd added the right ingredient in the wrong amount, his exams had come back with low marks, etc. And now he was on his way to his least favorite class, the one he shared with _her_ , when he almost tripped over it. Regaining his balance with a mouthed swear, he stepped closer to the black object.

Certainly wasn't anything living. Looked like a pile of fabric. Or a schoolbag. He crouched down and lifted it up, surprised at the hefty weight it boasted. It seemed slightly familiar, but he couldn't quite find out why until he looked inside for the name label and saw the familiar script of one Hermione Granger.

Suddenly, his day seemed to have gotten a million times better. Cormac shrank the bag with his wand and tucked it into his pocket, walking away with a new spring in his step.

* * *

He sat in his class, face still stinging from the cuts she'd given it, only just healed by Madame Pomfrey, who had just assumed here had gotten himself into a fight. The cuts were not deep enough to leave scars, thankfully. He wondered if that had been her intention.

She wasn't there. Of course, all her other little Housemates were worried, glancing at her empty seat every now and then. Potter and Weasely kept sending him suspicious glances, but he ignored them and went about his work without the slightest weight on his conscience.

He wondered where she had gone off to. Would she tell? He fervently hoped not. He planned to kiss her again, and if he was expelled, it was likely he would never have another chance.

The way her lips felt, the little scream she'd let out when he'd groped her, twisting and turning to get away from him, her delicious fear... His arousal was threatening to overwhelm him, but he calmed it down with some effort, and luckily, no one noticed. His eyes strayed back to the Head Girl's empty seat, wondering where she was and if he would see her again that night.

* * *

She awoke some time later, eyes dry and heavy from her impromptu nap.

Her limbs were sore and numb from having stayed in the same position for so long. Hermione groggily stood up and stretched, washing her hands and tired face at the marble sink. She had no idea what the time was, but it felt late, and she knew she'd missed her day's classes. She shouldn't have cared, really, but she found herself sprinting out of the bathroom and running to the Great Hall, until she remembered she'd left her bag somewhere between Myrtle's loo and the Common Room.

Running back, hair flying everywhere, she didn't see him there, so it came as a shock when she collided into something large and heavy. She gave a small shriek of surprise and stepped back immediately, heart racing.

"I'm terribly sorry," she apologized, looking up at Cormac McLaggen, who was smiling down at her, a glint in his eye.

"Don't sweat it, Granger. Were you looking for this?" With a flourish he brought out and magically restored to original size her bag.

"Thank you," she said, smiling as best as she could. Her eyes were red and had she known she would have worried he might ask why, but he never did.

"It's nearly dinnertime. Fancy walking down with me?" He smiled at her, holding out his arm. Hermione hesitated for a second or two, but finally took his arm, letting him lead her down to the Great Hall.

When he'd offered his arm, Hermione had fretted for a moment. It wasn't like he was asking her out again, was it? She didn't really want to walk down with him, but he had found and given her her bag, so she couldn't begrudge him this could she? She debated on this as they walked down the silent corridor. She felt composed enough, compared to earlier, but was immensely relieved to find that Malfoy was not at dinner, not knowing that after class he had gone to look for her at her window in the library and then to the dormitory, and was currently sitting there, waiting for her to return.

 


	9. M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

They sat in front of the grand fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, sipping hot chocolate from large mugs as they completed their Potions essay. Hermione lay on her stomach, propped up by her elbows on soft cushions. Ron was sitting upside down on the chintzy armchair beside her, muttering random things and waving his wand in the air, amusedly watching as little bubbles or colored wisps of smoke burst from the tip of his wand. Harry sat cross legged against the sofa, scribbling the last lines of his essay, but he kept stealing glances at the curly-haired witch in front of him.

Her nose was wrinkled in concentration, her lips pouted as she mouthed out what she wrote. A curly lock fell in her eyes and she pushed it away with a huff, and letting out a small growl when it slid back into her eyes. Conjuring a ribbon, she sat up and began to tie her hair back with a small scowl. Harry knew too well how she hated whenever something broke her concentration.

Catching Harry looking at her from her peripheral vision she turned to face him, arms in her hair. "Need help, Harry?" she asked as she finished tying the bow with a tight yank.

Harry coloured as she fixed her eyes on him, embarrassed at having been caught. Of course, she didn't notice his flush, only crawled over in a busy manner and read his essay over his shoulder. The skin on his neck tingled as her sweet breath brushed past it. Her curls tickled the side of his face and his shoulder; he became hyper-aware of her next to him. Belatedly, he realized she had said something and was staring at him expectantly.

Oh, Merlin. He hadn't paid attention to a word she'd spoken. Not that he had known she'd been speaking, but she was waiting for a reply.

"Er-what?" was his guilty answer.

Hermione rolled her eyes good naturedly and said, "Your paper is really good, Harry, only you're missing the importance the newt's blood plays in the potion." She handed it back with a smile and shuffled around her papers into a neater pile. "Ron?" she twisted around to talk to the ginger, who was falling asleep on the chair.

"Hm?" He raised his arm from over his eyes, and cracked one eye open at the witch who was glaring at him, hands on her hips.

"Have you finished your paper?" he nodded lazily and pointed it out from the messy pile on the carpet, closing his eyes again as she retrieved it with a wave of her wand. She skimmed it and nodded curtly. "Well done, Ro- Oh for heaven's sake he's asleep again!" she flicked at his arm with her fingers, eliciting a muffled groan from the boy.

"At least he did his work," Harry offered, grinning. Hermione sighed and smiled back as she flicked her wrist, sending all her papers into her schoolbag.

Walking over, she plopped down next to Harry, who tried not to smile. Harry fished out a few cauldron cakes from his bag and gave one to Hermione, who thanked him and began to unwrap it.

They ate in silence, Ron's snores and the crackling of the fire filling their ears. The moonlight streamed in from the glass windows, lighting up the far side of the common room, where a group of first years sat in silence, poring over vast texts.

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Harry swallowed the last of his pastry and turned to face her.

"Malfoy hasn't been bothering you too much lately, has he?"

Hermione hesitated. She didn't know whether she should tell him or not. She wanted to, oh she did. But she was strong; she had handled it, hadn't she? Besides, she wasn't sure she was comfortable talking about it to Harry.

"He's been tolerable. Still a horrid git, but he's responsible enough and I can take the insults."

"What insults?"

Hermione cracked a small smile. "The usual, but they don't bother me anymore."

_Now something else does._

_"_ Has it gotten easier, living with him?"

"As long as we stick to each other's rules and don't argue too much."

 _But he still crosses the line, even if everything's going well_.

Harry stretched. "I imagined he'd separated the place into two sides with tape."

"That would have made things much easier, really. I wouldn't have minded."

"As long as you could still see him from your side, anyway, so you could hex him if he gets to be too much of a bother."

She laughed. "Exactly."

"We've missed having you around."

"I know," she said. "Believe it or not, Malfoy's terrible company."

Harry snorted. Ron gave a deafening snore and they both jumped, stifling their laughter. When they settled down, Hermione had tears in her eyes.

"'When's the the ball?"

She looked up at him quizzically, rolling her eyes upward as she recalled the information. "Next Saturday. Why, Harry?"

He scratched his arm.

"I dunno, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."

Hermione started. "But what about Ronald?" she whispered back, flicking her eyes to where her sleeping friend lay.

"He asked Lavender yesterday. Is that a no, then?" Harry's flush grew more prominent.

"Yes, I mean-no! I mean, no, that is not a no, and I will go to the Ball with you Harry. I'd really like that." She found herself giggling quietly. Strange. She never laughed like this. Harry nudged her shoulder with his.

"Don't expect me to dance," he warned, grinning.

"Oh, Harry, there's nothing to be afraid of with dancing. It's really quite simple!"

"What is?"

Ron had finally woken. He stretched his seat, wincing.

"Dancing."

He gave them a dubious look. "No it's not. It's embarrassing."

Hermione scowled at him.

"But I'll do it if I have to." He looked perplexed. "What did I miss? Have you signed me up for something?"

"Hermione and I are going to the ball together," Harry said.

"Oh, cheers." Ron gathered his things together and dropped them off the side of the armchair, then settled comfortably into it. "Should be fun."

"It's getting late," Hermione said. "I should be getting back, Malfoy and I are supposed to patrol the dungeons tonight." Ice dripped down her spine when she said it-she'd forgotten until now.

Harry stood up, offering her his hand. "Come on, I'll walk you there."

* * *

Draco paced angrily around the common room. She was late. It was ten past eleven and she was late. What could be holding her up? He wanted to smash something. A shiny object caught his eye, and he advanced towards the glittering vase when he heard footsteps outside. With quick, hard steps he reached the door and flung it open expectantly.

There she was with Potter, standing to the side of the door. Draco's eyes narrowed when he saw that Potter had Granger's hand in his. Granger was blushing, but her chin was raised and she glared at him. It was the first time they'd properly seen each other since the second assault, both of them knew the other had not forgotten about it.

"You're late."

His fists were clenched. He avoided looking at their joined hands.

"I'm aware of that, Malfoy." She turned to Harry, and he watched as her features softened. She hugged him, lingering a fraction longer than she should have. "Goodnight." She murmured into his ear.

"'Goodnight," He whispered back. He wanted to kiss her, but didn't dare in front of Malfoy. He looked angry and repulsed enough, and Harry was in no mood for a quarrel today. He smiled at Hermione and cast one suspicious look at Malfoy before turning and heading down the corridor.

Hermione didn't waste any time. Turning on her heel, she walked off towards the dungeons.

Draco followed her, suspicious and angry. What had that been, with Potter? Something had changed between them and he didn't like it. Had she told Potter about what he had done? She couldn't have, or Potter would not have left without a confrontation. Was she biding her time, or had she secretly told the Headmaster and was waiting for him to take action?

He thought of the second kiss. Though he did not regret it he lamented that he hadn't been able to control himself better.

 _This is what she's done to you_ , he told himself. _She's ruined you_.

They reached the dungeons some time later, each lost in their own thoughts. Careful not to walk close to Malfoy, Hermione was thinking about the Ball, and about Harry. She honestly hadn't expected anyone to ask her, not even Harry. She'd not thought to ask if they would go as friends or something more, though she figured he would not have bothered to ask as friends, for they usually ended up together in most of the events they went to.

Draco was thinking about his mission. He'd made considerable progress on the wardrobe lately. If he kept up at this rate, he'd have it done sometime in the spring. His thoughts shifted to the upcoming ball. He'd asked Daphne Greengrass to go with him. Naturally, she'd said yes. He honestly didn't care about her, but he needed a date as well as a good fuck, so he'd gone and killed two birds with one stone. He wondered if Granger had a date yet. Was that what had happened just now? Had Potter finally grown the nerve to ask her?

Granger kept a distance between them, walking quickly ahead, checking every crevice and every door. Draco watched her angrily. So she wanted this over quickly so she could go hide from him again? No, he would deny her that chance.

Hermione's skin prickled, and the lightest shudder ran through her body. He was watching her. Picking up her pace, she set her jaw and advanced further into the dungeons, eager to escape from his cold eyes. Here the dungeons got darker and darker as she progressed through them, so she cast a Lumos Maxima. The light her wand produced barely allowed her to see her own hand. Somehow, it seemed as though the darkness here was too heavy. She could feel it slithering around her neck and pressing down on her shoulders, down her arms and around her waist. A second passed by, and she suddenly realized that hadn't been the darkness. She tried to raise her arm but couldn't because someone was holding it in a vise-like grip.

And that someone was Draco Malfoy.

Merlin, how had he done that? And where was her wand? It was not in her hand anymore _._

"Get off me," she snarled, struggling to break her arms free from his grasp. His hands slid down to her wrists, squeezing painfully. She gasped with the pain, but with all her strength she twisted her wrist and shouted, "Repulso!" waiting for the spell to send him flying away from her.

Nothing happened.

"What- How did you?" And the answer came to her as he spoke in her ear.

"Nonverbal spells, Granger." She struggled to get away, but he tightened his hold on her just as she viciously tried to yank her arm out of his hold.

He felt it under his fingers-she'd dislocated her shoulder.

Hermione gasped and tried not to scream. She grit her teeth, a few tears of pain fell from her eyes and she breathed deeply to calm herself.

"Let me go," she whispered. "I'm hurt, Malfoy. Let me go _**now**_." Her voice was faint with pain, but full of anger.

"Why would I do that, Granger?" he whispered in her ear. She flinched as his lips brushed against the area just under her ear, placing small kisses on her flushed skin. "So you can go run off and tell your precious boyfriends?"

"Yes, th-that exactly! I need to go to the Hospital Wing!"

She spoke haltingly because she was trying to push him away from her with her good arm, and the movements were jostling her other arm, which throbbed with pain.

Malfoy silenced her protests with a jab of his wand and dragged her all the way back to the common room. She fought him the whole way, scratching at his hands and dragging her feet on the floor, but she didn't dare try to pull her other hand out of his grasp.

Draco muttered the password to the door and pushed her inside, running to catch her when she bolted towards her room. He roughly sat her down onto the couch, and held her there with a flick of his wand. Her brown eyes spat venom up at him. He ignored her and reached for her shoulder. She hissed when he brought his hands to it, trying to fight the spell.

Hermione watched with growing fear as he held her shoulder, probing her flesh softly with his fingers. His face betrayed no emotion other than concentration as he set about his task.

"This will hurt. Brace yourself." He warned in a low voice, and pulled on her arm. She whimpered and screwed her eyes shut, biting her lip. She didn't know why he was helping her, but it was better than having to go to Madam Pomfrey and come up with a lie as to how she'd sustained her injury, so she bit her lip harder and began translating runes and reciting French as hard as she could inside her mind, so she didn't feel when he magically popped her shoulder back into the socket.

A light tap on her cheek brought her back, to where Malfoy's face was hovering inches above her own.

"Your shoulder's fixed."

She squirmed underneath him. "This was all your fault. I told you to leave me alone!"

He smirked at her. "That's gratitude for you. All the same, you owe me."

Hermione eyed him warily. "I owe you nothing. _You_ did this, it was fitting you were the one to heal it. That ends it."

He smiled without humor.

He flicked his wand and her shoulder popped audibly again, her arm went limp and she lost all feeling there. Hermione gasped and looked up at him, eyes wide and hateful.

"Seriously, _what_ is your problem?" she hissed, clenching her shoulder with her good arm. Tears were visible in her eyes. "Where is my wand? Give it to me, you rat!"

He reached out and gripped her arm quite painfully. Hermione bit her lip and glared at him. He took the tip of his wand and held it against her skin. Somehow, the tip of his wand felt like a small blade, she let out a horrified cry as she watched it cut through her flesh.

" _What are you doing_?" she breathed. Her head swam with the pain he was causing.

"Teaching you a lesson long over-due."

Gods, it felt awful. The more she struggled the better he restrained her, and what on earth was he carving into her? Hermione looked into his eyes, which were focused on her arm, seeking an answer, some sort of explanation. Had he actually lost his mind? Her body began to shake and she tried kicking at him but the immobilization spell kept her in place and almost frozen.

"Merlin, Malfoy, _stop_ ," she pleaded. "Whatever you're doing, stop!"

Malfoy kept his eyes trained on her white skin, which was now dripping blood. Her _dirty_ blood-which was as clean and as red and as normal looking as his own. Confusion radiated through him, but he wasn't about to stop. In a matter of minutes he finished, wiping the tip of his wand on his robes.

Hermione was on the verge on unconsciousness, she felt dizzy and weak from her wounds, her vision faded in and out. She could feel her blood running down her arm. He'd cut her just in the crook of her elbow, and the blood was running down in streams. Vomit crept up her throat. If there was one thing she hated (other than Malfoy) it was blood. Fuzzy coloured dots danced before her eyes.

"You'll be expelled for this. I swear I'll have you thrown in Azkaban, you awful-" her words were cut off as he somewhat violently pulled away, taking his wand with him.

Malfoy stood above her, staring at the bloody M he'd carved into her skin, as if he couldn't believe he had just done that. But that lasted only a second, because in the next, he raised his eyes to the terrified witch who was slowly losing consciousness and said, "M for Malfoy. _M for_ _ **Mine**_."

Whether she'd heard him or not he didn't know. Still holding her shoulder, her eyes rolled back and she slipped into the dark.

Draco restored her shoulder again, then picked her up and carried her into her room, laying her down onto her bed carefully. His mind felt oddly empty, almost peaceful.

The red of her blood coated his hands. Draco stared at it for a moment.

Curious, he picked up his wand and cut through his flesh at the joint in his arm, biting his tongue to keep from gasping. Blood began to flow rapidly, and with a jolt he held his arm out next to hers, where the blood was still flowing, but in smaller amounts now.

Their blood was the same. He brought his fingers to her arm, and swept his finger tips along the red streams, and brought them up quickly to his lips before he could stop himself.

No horrible, disgusting taste. Not muddy at all. Tasted just like blood. The taste of copper filled his mouth, and he swallowed hastily. How was this possible?

He waved his wand and muttered a few spells, and they were both clean, their wounds healed and the blood was nowhere to be seen. He waved his wand once more and she was changed out of her robes and into her Gryffindor sleepwear, tucked into her sheets.

One last thing. Her pained voice, her threats had not been forgotten. Draco was in no mood for expulsion or imprisonment. He stepped closer to the witch and pointed his wand at her forehead.

"Obliviate."

Hermione's troubled expression eased into blankness, and Draco bent forward, placed a kiss on her arm, where the skin was like new under the concealment charm he placed on the fresh mark, and then one on her lips.

He left her room without a backwards glance, shutting off her lights and closing her door as quietly as he could.

* * *

It was snowing heavily, the bruising winds threatened to overpower her as she trudged through the snow. Hermione was returning from the shops with her purchases in brightly colored bags. Stopping to gain her breath, she shrunk them all and stuck them with care into her messenger bag. The winds whipped her stray curls around, stinging her cheeks and biting at her skin. Straightening, she adjusted her scarf and shivering, went on her way to The Three Broomsticks.

The bells chimed as she entered, there was a silence and then cheerful greetings rang out around her as the occupants recognized her. Hermione smiled and waved to her classmates, and catching sight of whom she was looking for, she headed for his table.

Harry handed a butterbeer to Hermione as she sat down, unwinding her scarf from her neck.

"Terrible out, isn't it?" He asked.

"Very. I hope I don't catch a cold," Hermione responded, taking a sip. Almost immediately the spicy sweet drink warmed her insides, giving her a delicious, bubbly feeling.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked.

"Yes, and in just enough time. We ought to leave so on if we want to make it back to the castle at all."

She'd spent so long searching for a dress, and was glad she had something to show for her effort.

Had her eleven year old self seen her now, excited over a dress, she would have shaken her head in disgust and begun a lecture on why looks and appearances didn't matter. But Hermione felt differently now. Yes, she still loved books and studying, with all her heart. But no matter how hard she'd tried, her feminine side had crept up on her and caught her off guard. It had all started in Fourth Year. Krum had followed her around in the library, seeking her attention. She was surprised but secretly pleased that someone actually had taken an interest in her. She'd been nervous for the ball, harboring a love-hate relationship with her dress, worrying that once everyone saw her in it, they'd think she'd let go of herself, that now she was some simpering, boy-crazy idiot like Lavender and Parvati. She'd felt glamorous and beautiful at the ball, secretly thrilling in how everyone's jaws had literally popped open when she'd taken her first step into the room. Krum had called her beautiful over and over again, and she'd been on top of the world that night.

Not even Malfoy had been able to dampen her spirits. He'd hissed insults at her every time she passed, but she'd held her head high and deigned not to look at him. But of course, Ron had been jealous and struck her at her weak point, leaving her a mess in front of everyone. It had taken her a few days to realize that he'd been so mean because he was jealous, and while it didn't excuse how badly he'd made her feel, it comforted her a tiny bit that he didn't actually hate her, as she'd feared.

Despite Hermione's concern the storm died quickly, so they spent the afternoon in the pub, chatting with each other and anyone who dropped by for a quick hello. Ron and Lavender joined them briefly before going away again. Before they excited the pub, Hermione cast a strong warming charm on them both, and they began their ascent back up to the castle.

They entered the school, Evanescoe'd their boots and trudged into the Great Hall, where lunch was about to begin.

"I'll be right back, Harry, I've got to put my things away." She didn't wait for his reply, shooting out of the great hall and into the corridor, climbing up the stair case as fast as she could.

Hermione reached the Head Common Room in record time, slamming her door shut behind her. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her bags and restored them back to their original size, setting them onto her bed. She picked up the heaviest bag and took out the parcel inside it, wrapped in sturdy tissue paper.

She unwrapped the parcel and hummed happily when her dress unfolded, reaching the floor in its length. The soft fabric whispered as it brushed the floor, the glittering sash tied around the waist ended in a plump bow on the small of its back. Hermione gingerly laid it out on her armchair; she'd have time to properly hang it up when she came back, but right now she was starving.

* * *

Draco didn't bother with lunch, he had two green apples in his pocket and that was enough for him. His excitement filled his stomach. He'd reached a breakthrough with the wardrobe, it was almost working. He sat in the ancient, forgotten room and crunched into his apple, looking around himself. So many lost things. How had they gotten there? How had this room come into existence? Did anyone ever come back to retrieve anything?

Without thinking he kicked a broken chair and jumped back as it crashed to the floor, bringing down a massive pile of boxes. Several burst open at the impact with the floor. Many held books, others musty old robes and hats, but there was one that caught his eye. Smaller than the rest, it dimly glittered in the light of the chandelier he'd repaired months ago. It was a jewelry boxold, but beautiful. A dark green with pearls embedded into it, his fingers ran over the intricate designs lightly and found the clasp that held it closed. It was locked, so he muttered a quick Alohamora and it creaked open.

He lifted the lid and peered inside. An incredulous grin worked itself onto his face. He snapped the box shut and tucked it into his pocket.

_I might have some use for this._


	10. The Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

 

They were sitting in the warm common room, studying in silence. He sat at the table, his papers and books spread out over the wooden surface. Brow furrowed, he was immersed in his Transfiguration text book, his quill scratching on the parchment. She sat a short distance away, reclining on the sofa with her knees halfway up to her chest, a heavy tome in her lap. She had been sitting there since after dinner and he had come across her, and settled at the table to do his work. He felt her uneasiness, but it faded after an hour or so of the joint studying and there hadn't been a word between them.

Ever since the day of the second kiss she had kept a distance around him, refusing to sit with him at the table or even going so far as to switching around seats if he sat too close to her during class. It was good she didn't remember what he'd done only recently. If she did, he would have been promptly expelled, just like she'd threatened.

A sense of paranoia had gripped Draco after he had erased her memory of the night he had carved his initial into her arm. He feared he had not done it right, and that she would remember what he had done, and the other accusations would follow immediately after. He'd been keeping a closer eye on her since to make sure it didn't happen.

Beside that, he had been devoting the rest of his time to preparation for the mission. All his assignments were barely paid any attention unless he had the time to spare to do them. Lately this meant he was falling behind in most of his classes, but he didn't care. If everything continued progressing at the rate it was already going, he would be ready soon, and where he was going, it didn't matter whether he had finished school or not.

Absently, he patted his pocket and feeling the green jewelry box inside, he stole a covert look at the oblivious witch who was searching through her schoolbag which lay on the floor while still sitting on the couch. Not a wise thing to do, really, because she wobbled and almost fell, but at the last moment she kicked out her leg, trying to maintain her balance.

As her leg flung out, her skirt inched up her leg and he caught a glimpse of her white thigh, just above where her black stocking ended. Immediately he pictured that thigh and its twin wrapped around his hips, the warmth they held. Draco muttered a swear or two and glued his eyes back onto his book, scouring the pages for the answers.

"Malfoy." Her voice brought him back. He raised his eyes and coolly stared back at the frowning witch.

"At what time on Friday are the Weird Sisters coming?"

He held her gaze for a second before replying, "They'll be here at five. You would already know this if you had taken the time to read the memo I put up earlier. Now if I could study in peace for once, without you disrupting my concentration?"

Hermione scoffed under her breath and picked up her sugar quill, absently sucking on it as she flipped slowly through her book.

_All this for one question!_

She shook her head and tried to read her book, but none of the words sunk in. Instead she thought of how she'd hung out with Harry and Ron earlier; they'd gone to visit Hagrid, and had had a wonderful time talking and drinking tea. Afterwards they had gone walking around the castle right before dinner. It had really lifted her spirits, spending time with them.

All the schoolwork they had been given lately was almost too much to bear. Even Hermione had been struggling to keep up to the point where she was barely able to focus on anything else. It came to the point that she feared that in focusing so little on anything else, she was beginning to get too careless. More than once already she had found strange bruises on her arms, and once had woken with a strange stiffness and soreness in her arm. Upon inspection nothing was wrong, but if she pressed a finger to it it hurt quite badly. She couldn't remember hitting her arm against anything the day before, so she decided she must have been thrashing around in her sleep and knocked it against a bedpost.

Malfoy hadn't bothered her lately, either, which she normally would have been ecstatic about, but now it left her on edge. Ever since that day she'd woken up in her bed with her arms sore he'd stayed right away from her. He was avoiding her; but why? She'd scoured her memories of the week before, but nothing came up. Rather, there was a curious blank in her memory. The last thing she remembered about that night was heading down into the dungeons with Malfoy. It was very strange, but she had no time to think on it.

After the second time he had forcibly kissed her she had tried to gather the courage to tell someone, but Dumbledore and Harry were off on some secret mission again, Ron was spending time with Lavender, and when she found herself outside Professor McGonagall's office she felt such a feeling of shame come over her she couldn't even bring herself to knock on the door. Wherever the shame came from she couldn't determine since she knew she had no fault in what Malfoy had done to her, but it was enough to keep her silent, and she hated it.

It would go away soon, she told herself. If he tried anything else, she would not hesitate to report him.

Draco watched her suck on her quill, her pretty little lips wrapping around the sweet and suddenly the front of his pants felt too tight. He watched as she licked some of the candy off her bottom lip and he almost groaned, his cock twitching for attention. He couldn't believe the effect this girl had on him.

That she was a Mudblood didnt matter anymore. He had seen her blood and it had shaken him to his core. Not only had he received that nasty shock at seeing how her blood was the same as his, he'd let himself go too far with engraving that M on her arm. Much too far.

_But she needed to learn her lesson. Even though she doesn't remember or acknowledge having the mark, it's still there, and she deserved it. It proves she's mine._

He hadn't wanted to, but he'd been forced to Obliviate her. Couldn't have her running off to Potter and co. to complain about nasty Malfoy. He'd put an undetectable concealment charm on her arm as well, sneaking into her room every night since then to make sure she couldn't see it the following day. Sometimes he spent the night in her bed too, limiting himself to kissing only, since anything beyond that would give her a glaring clue.

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see Granger picking up her things and head toward the door. She didn't look once in his direction, but said in a cold voice, "If Harry and Ron come, tell them I'm in the library, please."

Irritation and jealousy provoked him to spit out after her, "I'm not a bloody owl, Granger. Tell them yourself!" as the door shut behind her.

Hermione reached into her pocket as she walked away from the common room and pulled out her ribbon. Winding it through her hair, she set off at a brisk pace to the library. She entered the enormous room a few minutes later and walked deep into the back of the library, heading for her window.

When she reached it she set her things down on her table, and headed towards the bookshelves. She wandered aimlessly through row upon row of books, taking her time. She loved the smell of the library, the quiet noises coming from everywhere and the peace of it all. Running her fingers lightly over the spines of the books, she hummed softly to herself, searching for the books she needed. She had come to research, but perhaps could put aside a little time for some light reading.

Advancing farther into another row of books, she came across a secluded area with a dead end, the shelves around it crammed with volumes she had never seen before. She gave a little hum of delight and pulled several out, reading the titles. One particular text, _The History and Secrets of the Ancient Runes_ caught her immediate attention. Hermione pushed a chair aside and hopped up onto the ledge on the bookcase, lightly resting her back against the spines of the books. Opening the tome with a satisfying crinkle of the old spine, she thought she heard footsteps nearby but shook it off. No one ever came all the way back here.

* * *

Cormac had been sitting at a table in a dark part of the library by the entrance when he had seen her enter. Hermione had walked quietly past the tables and check out desk, averting her gaze from everyone else, going straight to the back of the library. She hadn't noticed him stand up and follow her slowly from a distance, weaving in between tables and bookcases, hadn't noticed when she dropped her quill from her bag, he'd swooped down and picked it up, tucking it into his pocket.

He had followed her into the darkest recesses of the library, where he stumbled upon her little hideaway. He didn't have a clue as to where she'd gone; she'd taken a turn and lost him in the maze of books. Stepping lightly, he made his way over to the window seat and sat down, prepared to wait as long as it took for the witch to come back out.

* * *

By then Hermione had gathered an intimidating amount of books and her fingers tickled with anticipation to read them all. She carried a stack and levitated the other to follow her back to her little nook.

She was so busy focusing on not dropping the other stacks she didn't notice the boy sitting by the window until she'd safely charmed the floating stacks of books onto her table. But then she saw his figure by the window and she jumped violently, thinking him to be a certain Slytherin. Her books crashed to the floor, landing on her feet, causing her to moan in pain. The figure advanced and she held out her wand, rushing out a warning for him to stay back.

He approached slowly, hands in the air, and she finally realized it wasn't who she thought it was.

"Merlin, Cormac! You gave me a fright!" she gave a weak laugh and dropped down into the nearest chair, her shoulders sagging with relief.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really didn't mean to, I followed you here because I saw you come in, and you dropped your quill." He held it out to her as he spoke. His face turned serious when he noticed she was glancing around nervously. "Sure you're alright?"

She smiled up at him and took it. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." She couldn't tell him the reason she was so nervous was because she had thought Malfoy had followed her here."Thank you for returning my quill. You seem to have a knack for finding my lost things."

"Well, I do what I can to help."

This was the friendliest he had been in months since she'd rejected him. Hermione relaxed, thinking he'd finally gotten over it.

"Were you waiting here this whole time? I must have been searching in the bookshelves for at least an hour! I'm sorry you had to wait that long."

He waved away her apology. "No worries, Granger. It's simple charity. But now that you're here, I've been meaning to ask: Will you go to the ball with me?"

Hermione blushed. _Oh no…_

"I'm really sorry, Cormac, but Harry already asked me."

"Beaten again," he said, looking chagrined. "Perhaps you'll save me a dance or two?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course, Cormac. What are friends for?" She tried not to notice the fact that his hands clenched just slightly.

"See you then, Granger." He flashed her his most charming smile and left quickly, damning Harry Potter again and again in his mind.

Hermione sighed, letting herself slip down further into the chair. She'd come here for peace and had ended up with more trouble.

* * *

Returning to the Head Common Room several hours later, Hermione almost collided into Harry, who was on his way to collect her from her dorm so he could take her to dinner. As they walked back down to the Great Hall, Hermione noticed Harry seemed troubled. He looked tired and over wrought, his hair was even messier than usual; as though he'd pushed his hand through it too many times.

"Harry, are you alright?" she asked softly. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a second.

"The dreams are coming back," he whispered, "I keep seeing Sirius die, and then it'll flash to the Astronomy tower, where there's a group of people. I know it's something bad is going to happen, but I can't hear what they're saying, and I don't know who they are. I've got a bad feeling about it, Hermone. Something's coming."

A dreadful shiver made its way down Hermione's spine. With effort, she pushed her fear aside and grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly. Her other hand came up and rested on his shoulder, cupping his neck.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. About Sirius," she clarified when he looked at her questioningly, "I know it's awful, but you need to go tell Professor Dumbledore. Even if it's just a trick or an odd dream, it must mean something, especially if Hogwarts is threatened. After dinner, we'll go speak to Dumbledore, alright?"

She could see the worry in his blue eyes. "What if it's another trick from Voldemort? What if he's just trying to lure me someplace else so he can finish me off? What if someone else dies because of me?" His voice cracked, and he looked down at her desperately, fighting the memories of that horrible night when his godfather had been murdered.

"What if it's not a trick, Harry, and something really is going to happen? You saved Mr. Weasley's life, perhaps you can save another, should anything happen. Whatever it is, you have to tell Dumbledore."

Harry didn't move for a long time, his eyes half closed. Hermione could practically see the war waging inside his head, counted the seconds patiently as they ticked by. Finally, Harry nodded; a small nod she caught just in time.

"After dinner." He agreed, and led her down to the Great Hall entrance. "But I need to go alone."

Hermione wanted to protest, but she understood this time. She stood on her toes, reaching to hug him, but at that second someone pushed past her roughly, catching her off balance, sending her falling to the floor.

Hermione fell on her backside with an grunt and looked up, dizzy. "What the hell?"

"McGonagall wants to see us after dinner, Granger," she heard Malfoy say from above her.

"Apologize, Malfoy," Harry hissed as he helped her up. "You shoved her on purpose!"

"Maybe if the Mudblood did something with that rat's nest on her head, I wouldn't have thought it were some enormous beast."

Harry aimed his wand at Malfoy, who mirrored his actions. "You're full of shite."

Malfoy laughed. "Maybe I ought to give you a fall, too. What do you say, Potter, maybe if I hit you hard enough all that funny stuff in your head will go away?"

Hermione straightened her skirt and shot a venomous look at the blond wizard. "Come on, Harry. He's not worth it." She put her hand on his arm and lowered it gently, tugging him away into the Great Hall without another glance at the Slytherin.

Hands shaking with anger, Draco sent a jinx to the nearest potted plant, which burst into flame. Luckily, there were no students around to witness his behavior. He ran his hand through his hair, baring his teeth at the floor. That had been an utterly stupid thing to do, but when he saw her about to hug Potter, he couldn't control himself, he'd simply rushed over and shoved her to the floor in one fluid motion before she could lay a single finger on him. But she'd done so anyway, after she'd gotten up from the floor.

_I'm losing control. She's turning me into some sort of beast._

His stomach growled impatiently, and he stopped his internal raving. Straightening his hair and robes, he closed his eyes and counted to twenty before entering the Great Hall, not sparing another thought towards her.

He seated himself beside Blaise and immediately began to fill his plate.

"What kept you?" Blaise asked.

Draco shook his head. "Head business. Granger and I have got a meeting with McGonagall after this."

His friend regarded him curiously. "There's something bothering you. Something else." He lowered his voice. "Is it about _her_?"

Draco stopped, his fork half way to his mouth. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"She's seeing Potter, isn't she?"

Draco worked his jaw and glared at the ceiling.

"By your silence, I'll take that as a yes. Unfortunate. How goes the progress on the mission?" He dipped a piece of bread into his onion soup.

"Better than your relationship with Pansy at the moment."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "That may be true, but we're talking about you at the moment, not my relationship. I suppose it's going well, then."

"Well enough. It's set for the Spring."

"Goodness, you've been busy."

"I want it to work, don't I."

Blaise brought his elbows onto the table and leaned in. "You're doing this because you want her as your reward?"

Draco glanced at her. "Yes."

"I didn't think you'd actually go for it," Blaise scratched his neck. "You think He'd say yes?"

Draco tore his eyes away from her at last. "As long as I do what he wants he should have no reason to say no."

* * *

"Who are you going to the ball with, Luna?"

Bright, cloudy blue eyes looked up at Hermione, a mysterious smile gracing her pale face.

"Neville asked me a week ago," she stated in her dreamy voice.

Hermione beamed. "That's wonderful, Luna!"

Luna looked down the long table to where Neville sat, poring over another Herbology book. "He knows all about Nargles and Pinky Puffwinks. Makes for such pleasant conversations."

"I'm sure it does. I'm glad you two are going together." Hermione shivered, feeling a familiar stare on her back.

"Is something bothering you, Hermione? Or someone?"

A guilty flush crept its way up Hermione's neck. Clearing her throat, she took a sip of her pumpkin juice and tried to look confused.

"Nothing's bothering me, Luna. I'm only stressing out about the ball. I want it to be perfect."

Not entirely true, not entirely false. It would do.

Luna's wide, knowing eyes told her she wasn't fooling anyone, but luckily didn't push the subject. Reaching for the treacle tart, she fixed Hermione with her steady, unwavering gaze and said, "There's no such thing as perfect."

Hermione decided not to reply, leaving Luna to her desert. She ate in a moody silence until dinner was over, and she saw Malfoy rising from his seat.

 _Better get this over with, then,_ she thought resignedly and stood up, catching Harry as he was about to leave.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered into his ear, and gave him a hard hug. Harry held her tightly.

"Be careful around Malfoy," he warned her in a low voice. Hermione nodded and pulled away gently, giving him a reassuring smile over her shoulder as she walked over to Malfoy, who was waiting with a scowl on his face.

"Good, I was just about to collect you," he said.

"I don't need you hanging over my shoulder," she replied.

They reached McGonagall's office quickly. Upon entering, Hermione looked around the familiar room with a sense of pride. Extremely unlike Umbridge's office, McGonagall's had no frills, no lace, and certainly nothing that was pink or held an image of a kitten. The room was clean and well lit; the décor was simple yet gave the room a cozy feel. A Gryffindor banner hung above her desk.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy. I trust everything is ready for the ball?" She looked at them from the tops of her spectacles.

They nodded.

"Very well. Now, I'm sure you remember in your Fourth Year, the four champions opened the ball with the first dance. Seeing as there is no Triwizard Tournament this year, Professor Dumbledore has requested that the Head Boy and Girl open the ball with the first dance."

Hermione's heart dropped to her feet. She opened her mouth, but was cut off by McGonagall, who continued, "I am aware this may not be favorable for either of you, but it is mandatory. By refusing to stand with each other, you will be disgracing the school, and yourselves. Professor Dumbledore wishes you two to display unity before the entire school. You two will dance the opening dance and after that you may pretend it never happened if you so wish. Is that clear?" Her old, feline eyes bored into the two students'.

"Yes, Professor." Malfoy said.

"…Yes, Professor." Hermione couldn't believe it.

"I trust the both of you know enough about dancing to not make fools of yourselves at the ball." She added as the Head students rose and headed for the door. "If not, a quick lesson may be arranged for."

"I've been trained in the dance since I was a child, mum," Draco said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at this. _Of course._

"And you, Miss Granger?"

"I've taken classes in ballet and other forms of dance in my childhood, Professor. It shouldn't be a problem."

Professor McGonagall nodded brusquely. "Very well. Please be sure to be on your best behavior tomorrow."

Hermione closed the door behind her, grimacing.

Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well. Things have gotten more interesting."

Hermione cast him a dark look and walked on.

"Tell me, Granger. Have you _really_ taken dance lessons?"

Hermione turned back to look at him. "Of course I have. Are you hard of hearing or do you think I'm lying?"

Draco fixed his gaze ahead on the path they were taking back to their dorms. "I find myself a little dubious. _Can_ you dance?"

She regarded him, irritation evident in her features.

"We already went over this. Yes, I know how to dance."

He shook his head. "No, Princess." He grinned to himself as she visibly bristled at pet name. "We've already established that you know how to dance. The question is, can you? Rather, are you any good? Because I wouldn't want to embarrass myself tomorrow when you're stumbling over your own feet."

Hermione stopped walking and looked him in the eye. "You'll find out tomorrow, won't you?" she replied, and turned the corner to the next hallway.

* * *

The Great Hall had been magically decorated, enlargened so there would be enough room for everyone to dance and be comfortable. Christmas trees, courtesy of Hagrid, had been set up in every corner and decorated by Professor Flitwick, who was still adding the finishing touches. Tables and chairs outlined the room, leaving a large, wide space in the middle of the whole room for the dancing to take place. Everlasting Icicles adorned the walls and the grand staircase. Lampposts stuck out from the ground, and the ceiling provided snow that fell softly down, disappearing soon as it hit the ground. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside; a lovely grey, with small, wispy clouds stretching out across the sky. The falling snow gave everything a dream-like appearance.

Hermione stood at the entrance and smiled happily. Classes had been canceled for the day, and although that would have made her upset normally, she didn't mind so much today. She'd been here since morning, making sure each and every detail was perfect and in place. Things were looking up. Malfoy had joined her a while ago, making the rounds, and had gone to receive the Weird Sisters, who were setting up.

They had two hours until the Ball, and she had to go get ready. Making her way over to Malfoy, she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm leaving now," she explained. "I need to go get dressed." He nodded and turned back.

Hermione left quickly. She entered her dorm and headed as quickly as she could for the bathtub. Stripping, she let the warm water run and let her hair down, sprinkling lavender oil into the water. Stepping in, she sighed as the hot water relieved the tension in her muscles, leaning her head back onto the lip of the bathtub. The lavender scent enveloped her, calming her mind. It was her favorite scent in the world, other than fresh parchment and old books. Her mother used to bring fresh stalks of lavender from the outdoor market, placing them into her and her daughters' pillowcases 'to ease your mind while you sleep'.

A faint smile curved Hermione's lips; she reached for the sponge and began to rub at her skin. It wouldn't do to get all emotional and homesick now, she was working to beat the clock.

* * *

"You okay, mate? You look upset." Harry turned to face Ron, who was struggling to knot his bow tie.

"I'm fine." Ron gave him a skeptic look and sat on his bed to tie his shoes.

Harry fumbled with his tie. "You and Lavender are getting pretty serious."

Ron's face darkened, and he hesitated before answering, "You mean **she's** the one getting serious. She's practically started planning our wedding!" He ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't mean for things to get like that. I want to end it, but I can't do it now. It would ruin her if I did it tonight. I don't want to hurt her feelings, you know?"

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say. Ron went on, staring out the window. "I mean, she's nice, and really good at kissing, but I didn't think it would last this long." He grimaced. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it? She's not _the one_."

Harry ruffled his friends' hair and sat down in front of him on his own bed. "But would you rather sound stupid than be unhappy?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah. You're right, mate." He looked down at his watch. "We've got about a half hour left before we go get the girls. Fancy a quick game of Wizard's chess?"

Harry glared at him. "Does it matter whether I agree or not?"

The ginger laughed, clapping Harry on the back. "Of course not. Glad you're catching up."

Still guffawing, he waved his wand, conjuring his treasured chess set from underneath his bed.

* * *

The dress was the palest pink, like a faint blush on a porcelain doll. The neckline dipped into a modest sweet-heart neckline, exposing the white skin of her chest. The sash around her waist, just under her breasts was a darker peach-pink. Its ends tied into a plump bow on her back, just below her shoulder blades. The skirt went down to her feet, covering her simple black heels. Already they were hurting her feet-she was sorely tempted to exchange them for her trainers but could already hear Malfoy's ridicule, so in the end the only thing she could do was to try and remember a charm to ease the discomfort

Ginny had dared her to wear something more risque, and had chosen one for her to try on that had a daring slit on the thigh and a cutout between her breasts. Hermione had admired the dress but could not feel comfortable in it-it just wasn't her style, and she wasn't comfortable wearing something that revealed so much.

Hermione didn't bother with any jewelry. It was a little known fact that she did not like necklaces. Necklaces reminded her of collars, of slaves and chains. She would get anxious and could practically feel the jewelry start to tighten around her throat, squeezing her windpipes. She would never admit it, but they even frightened her a little. They made her feel trapped. The fear was irrational to its core, but she didn't care.

She'd wrestled with her hair for ages, and in the end had managed to style it into a elegant, yet loose chignon. Small, intricate braids were woven in with the other strands of hair. She'd placed several pins in her hair that had the same crystals attached to the end that were on her dress, so her hair sparkled softly in the light.

A knock sounded on the door, followed by Harry calling her name.

Hermione opened the door and stepped out, focusing on not tripping, her face lighting up with a smile when she saw Harry, Ron, and Lavender standing there waiting for her.

Harry appeared not to be able to find his voice. Hermione tried not to giggle.

"You look great," he said awkwardly. Hermione took his arm.

"Better than that, surely."

"Of course-I meant," he had gone red. "You look amazing."

Laughing, she swatted his arm. "Thank you."

Lavender hurried over, beaming. "Hermione Granger! You've done it again!" she laughed and quickly hugged a confused Hermione, who hugged her back and complimented her on her dress as well. Ron shuffled forward and gave Hermione a bear hug that left her gasping for air as he set her back down on her feet. "You look amazing." He grinned, tucking Lavender's arm back into his own.

Harry held out his arm, looking at his date. "Shall we?" Hermione grinned and tucked her own arm into his. "We shall."

* * *

Draco stood outside the Great Hall, wishing the event was already over, or that he at least didn't have to attend. The only thing keeping him there was the promise of that dance with Granger. Blaise was making small talk, but he wasn't keen on conversation just now. Daphne stood next to him, stunning in a dark green silk dress. Pansy clung to Blaise, looking around at all the other girls walking by with their dates, obviously sizing them up. She must have felt insecure about her short, tight black dress, because she was glaring jealously at all the other girls.

"Are you ready to go in yet?" Daphne asked.

Draco shook his head. "You go in if you'd like. I'll meet you inside soon." He kissed the back of her hand and she left. He sneered at Blaise, who was smirking at him. Only Blaise knew the reason for his lingering out here. Pansy didn't care whether they stayed in or out, complaining that these balls were always 'frightfully dull'.

A shift in mood caught his attention, and his eyes snapped to Blaise, who raised his eyebrows and jerked his head in the direction of the grand staircase, where he noticed the Weasel and Brown make their way down the stairs. He looked back at Blaise, scowling, as if to say, _So?_ But his eyes went back to the stairs, searching for what he'd obviously missed, and he saw her at last. Immediately he felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her, his hands went slack. His eyes roved up and down her figure, drinking in her beauty.

She was blushing, her deep brown eyes sparkling in the light of the room. That modest little dress-Gods, she was a tease. He'd never wanted to fuck her more. The color of her dress made her look like she was in a permanent blush; her soft, lush lips parted as she laughed at something her date said.

_Her date._

His eyes narrowed when he caught glimpse of who it was. Of course. Dressed rather handsomely, he had to admit. Almost as well as himself, who wore an elegant white suit with a black tie. But his muscles tensed and a snarl ripped out of his chest when Potter had the audacity to wrap his arm around Granger's waist and lead her to the far corner, where Weaselbee and Brown were waiting.

Blaise was next to him in an instant, placing his hand on his arm.

"Calm down." He hissed. "D'you want the whole bloody school to notice?"

Draco shook his arm off and stood still, looking around him. No one had noticed. Pansy had gone over to a gaggle of Slytherin girls, who were pointing and staring at the Gryffindors.

A clearing of throat demanded his attention, and he turned to see Professor McGonagall standing behind him.

"When you have finished chatting with your friends, Mister Malfoy, I'd like to get this ball started." She moved across the room to collect and chastise Granger.

Draco swore under his breath, nodding to Pansy and Blaise to enter without him. The Gryffindors were approaching.

Feigning indifference and disdain, Malfoy called out, "Dating celebrities again, Granger? I thought you knew better." He smirked when she turned her large, lovely eyes onto him, though they were frowning in annoyance. Potter pulled her away, shielding her from his view.

"Piss off, Malfoy." He called back, and they walked into the ballroom.

Malfoy stared after them angrily. Damn Potter. Granger was _his_.

He walked into the room sometime after, seeking out Daphne and standing by her side. The room buzzed with the chatter of the students, humming with energy.

The Headmaster stepped up before the congregation, holding out his open palms for silence. "Girls and boys, I welcome you to the Christmas Ball, which celebrates the end of another year, though not necessarily the end of the school year," he added when the students burst into applause. "Without further ado, I introduce Head Boy and Head Girl, Miss Hermione Granger and Mister Draco Malfoy, as they both planned this event and will open the dance floor with the opening dance."

A smattering of applause filled the room, and Harry tensed beside her. "You have to dance with him? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a low voice.

Ron grabbed her wrist. "No bloody way, he'll probably try to hex you or-" Hermione pulled her hand free impatiently.

"I didn't tell you, because you wouldn't have liked it anyways. It's just a dance, please don't lose your heads over this," she whispered. They weren't even paying attention to her, they were staring straight ahead, their expressions disbelieving.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Everyone around them had gone silent. She turned, full of dread.

Malfoy waited there with his hand out for her to take. His eyes were cold and hard, but there was something darker lurking past the surface-she fought the instinct to step back. His lips moved.

"Take my hand, Granger."

Shocked whispers broke out all around the room. Hermione looked around nervously, grit her teeth and placed her hand in his, shuddering at how cold his hand was. She could hear the whispers and murmurs all around her, could feel the heat of her friends' eyes on her back.

 _Just one dance, just one dance,_ she repeated in her mind. _Then it's over._

He led her to the center of the room, where a wide space had been formed for them. They faced each other.

He placed one hand on her waist, spreading his fingers, and raised their hands into the air, ready to dance. Hermione was reminded of his hand on her face, preventing her from moving as he kissed her.

He smiled without warmth. "You look well tonight. I hope you are as good a dancer as you say."

She looked up at him, distrust showed plainly in her eyes.

"One wrong move," she whispered, "One wrong move, one wrong touch, Malfoy, and I swear I will go to McGonagall."

She tried to keep herself a modest distance away but he wasn't having any of it. With the hand on her waist, he brought her closer to him with one sharp movement. Hermione gasped and was on the verge of pushing away when she remembered they were surrounded by people and he gave her hand a painful squeeze, as if warning her to stay put.

Malfoy's grip on her was sure and almost frightening, like he knew he was hurting her in front of everyone and knew no one would notice. Hermione looked around, highly uncomfortable. She wished she'd never agreed to this, tradition or not-this fear wasn't worth it. She felt like she'd walked into a trap. She wanted to push him away, make him release her, even break his hands if necessary. She wanted to run, but his hands held her in place.

"Will you really, Princess?" he asked. "She is watching us now and seems not to have issue with the way I'm holding you."

She glared at him, refusing to reply as she placed her hand on his shoulder. McGonagall was indeed watching, along with everyone else, but was so far away it wouldn't be possible to really see them properly. Hermione knew Malfoy's words were only an attempt at manipulation.

The music began, and they started dancing. His long legs should have made it hard for her to catch up, but he found with a mild surprise that she matched him stride for stride, moving with a beautiful grace only a dancer could muster.

A light applause broke out, and grew louder as Professor Dumbledore led Professor McGonagall out onto the floor. That being the ice breaker, more and more couples began to enter the dance floor and conversation started up again, blending into the music.

Hermione looked around, and smiled at Neville, who was clumsily twirling Luna. She spotted Ron and Lavender dancing nearby, and almost laughed when Ron glared at Malfoy and mouthed to her, 'I've got your back'. But as if Malfoy had seen it, too, his grip on her tightened, and Hermione felt it die in her throat.

* * *

Her beauty amazed him. She wasn't even bothering to look at him, instead, she was looking around the dance floor as they moved, smiling at her friends. Each time her lips curved into a fresh smile, he felt the overwhelming urge to back her into a wall and attack her mouth with his own. Her lavender scent wafted up to his nose and his mouth watered, longing for another taste of her skin. Already he was aching for her, and the first dance wasn't even half over yet.

"You dance well. So you weren't lying, then."

She arched an eyebrow at him as he twirled her. "Have I ever been known to lie?"

"Have I ever been known to speak the truth?" he countered.

She regarded him coolly, moving her mouth to the side.

"And who did you train with, then?" she asked, tilting her chin up to meet his eye. He could see the tops of her breasts and those perfect lips...by Salazar, he wanted her. The snow flakes falling from the ceiling dusted her skin and hair, disappearing seconds after they melted.

"A famous dance instructor from France. He was good friends with my parents, and his wedding gift to them was a lifetime of lessons for me, free of charge." He shot her a contemptuous grin as she rolled her eyes. "Malfoys _always_ have the best." His voice was lower, and his smile hardened, his eyes fixed on her heart-shaped face.

Hermione's skin prickled, and she tore her eyes from his to land on Harry, who was standing nearby, speaking to Professor Slughorn unenthusiastically.

"Where did you learn, Granger?" he asked. He'd caught the way she'd longingly stared at Potter, and his hand had tightened around her waist. She glanced down sharply in pain and tried to regain some distance between their bodies. He only stepped in closer, their chests touching.

She reached up to push him away, and he obliged this time.

"Anyone can see," she hissed. "Don't you dare start this again. "

"Let them see," he said, unaffected. "This is only a dance and nothing more."

But his hands and eyes said otherwise.

"Remember what I told you," she hissed as they executed another complicated turn.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and watched her form greedily as she twirled. Her bum was delectable, he longed to give it a good, hard smack. She came back into his arms (he noticed the immense look of unease on her face), and the music ended, to her relief and his disappointment.

She did the barest of curtsies and he bowed, keeping theirs eyes locked. Applause filled their ears.

"Dance one more with me," he said, holding out his hand again. "Think of the raptures it'll give the Headmaster."

She looked at him disdainfully. "I would rather eat a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

He grinned, caught her hand and pulled her to him, thanking the Gods that the dance floor was packed and no one would notice. Her hip was delicious in his hand-he wanted to squeeze the sweet flesh, caress it in his palm, but felt that would be pushing it. Her rage was a fearsome thing, and he was sure he didn't want to provoke it here in front of so many, where she'd have everyone's support and he would be thrown in the dust. No, this was better done in private.

"Let me go before I take out your eye," she said stiffly, reaching for her wand.

"It's only a dance," he repeated. "Don't grab your wand, if you curse me here you'll spoil the ball for everyone and we both will face some uncomfortable questions."

She moved along with him reluctantly. "Has it not occurred to you that might be just what I want?"

He looked skeptical. "Is it? The word would spread. It would be a scandal, everyone would know before morning. You know how people misinterpret information. Malfoy assaulted Granger! No, Malfoy _snogged_ Granger! No, _they_ kissed! They'll believe whatever is easier to speak of. They are easy to influence."

She went pale. "You'd go that far to protect yourself?"

He smiled thinly, his hand sliding back up to her waist. "Farther."

She stopped moving, and he was forced to stop, but did not release her. Hand on her stomach, she looked like she was about to be sick.

" _What do you want from me?_ " she pulled away from him, stumbling over her own dress. "Why go to these lengths?"

Draco walked towards her and she scrambled away backwards. Other couples around them continued dancing obliviously. Malfoy came to a stop in front of her and properly frightened, Hermione reached for her wand. 

"May I cut in?" Potter asked politely, but Draco could hear the menace in his voice. He went to Granger at once, who grabbed onto his arm with no hesitation.

Draco sneered at them. "About time someone took her off my hands. I was about ready to hang myself."

Angry, afraid and relieved to be free of him, Hermione curtsied again.

"I wish you'd mentioned that to me so I might have helped you with that myself," she said, and left without looking back. Incredulous, Potter looked like he wanted to add something, but left, still with an expression of amazement at Granger's boldness.

Malfoy grinned. She'd completely ignored his insult and had given him class and cheek. His arousal was getting to be too much, so he diverted his attention and went to pour himself and Daphne some punch.

* * *

Two dances later, Hermione laughed, finally at ease. She'd danced once with Harry after Malfoy, and once with Ron after that. Harry twirled her and she spun gracefully, her dress fanning out around her and then wrapping itself around her legs before settling back down.

Harry looked at his best friend and wondered if she really did like him back. He hadn't really clarified whether this was a date or not, but did it really need explaining? They were having fun. She must have been as confused as he was, though.

 _I want more,_ he thought. _But what if this ruins our friendship if she says no?_ He gave her a quick smile when she smiled up at him, resting her head against his chest.

* * *

Harry had gone off to the loo and Hermione was drinking some water when someone tapped on her shoulder. She turned cautiously, not knowing who to expect.

Cormac grinned at her.

"You promised me a dance."

"I did," she said, feeling less than enthused. She put her cup away.

"I've got you at last, Granger," he said, settling his hands around Hermione. Hermione smiled back, but a curious smell caught her attention. She sniffed the air around Cormac and frowned.

"Have you been drinking Cormac?" she whispered. Cormac shrugged. "Just a bit tipsy, love. Our friend Seamus brought some of his own punch and spread some around. I wasn't aware of what it was at first, but now I suppose it's too late."

Hermione looked over to the food tables, where Seamus was pouring himself a hearty cup of punch. "I should go throw that out. Do you know how long it's been that way?"

"Don't be upset, Hermione," he pleaded. "It's almost Christmas! We're supposed to celebrate!" He leaned in, the hand on her waist lowering to her hip and Hermione backed away, sweat breaking out over her skin.

"Cormac, let me go, please. You're drunk, you wouldn't be acting this way normally."

She gasped when he caught her wrists and pulled her body against his. "Care to bet on that, Granger?" he slurred, looking hard into her wide eyes.

"You always act like you're too bloody good for everyone else. Shoot me down for thinking you attractive! Well you know what? I think you're bloody beautiful, and I'll show you why you should go out with me." Hermione blanched at his words, forgetting to fight back.

He swooped in and was about to kiss her when her brain turned back on and she turned her head at the last second, thinking back to how her first kiss had been taken from her.

His lips landed on her cheek, but moved down towards the skin beneath her ear. Hermione sucked in a breath and pushed at his chest, but finding it useless, she raised her leg and stomped hard on his foot. He groaned and pushed her into the wall behind the nearest Christmas tree, shielding them from everyone's view.

"Stop!"

Hermione reached for her wand, hidden in a secret pocket in the skirt of her dress. She would be damned if she would let herself be harassed two times in one night.

Cormac stumbled over himself as he tried pressing closer to her, lips still on her neck. Hermione pulled out her wand, shaking with fury. He grabbed her wand hand, and even in his drunkenness he was strong enough to wrestle it out of her hand.

"Give it back!"

He bit her ear and she yelped in pain. Couldn't anybody hear her? He was holding her wand out of reach with one hand and her wrist with the other. Hermione pushed at his face with her free hand.

_Not again, not again!_

He moved to kiss her again. Hermione raised her fist and threw all her energy into it. It caught him in the nose-he howled and slumped backwards, falling onto his back. He held his nose with both hands. Blood spurted out between his fingers.

Hermione edged around him, fighting to control her panicked breathing. Her hand burned with pain but she hardly felt it. A bit of his blood had stained her dress-she looked down at it, dazed.

"Hermione, there you are! Merlin, what happened?"

Neville approached her quickly. Dazed, she looked up at her friend.

"He assaulted me. I broke his nose." She picked her wand up from where he had dropped it. It felt so good to say out loud! But she was still shaking.

"Gods. Are you okay?" He touched her shoulder gently.

"I'm alright. I should report him."

Cormac was still the floor, groaning.

"Of course. I'll get McGonagall."

"Not here," she said quickly. "I don't want to do it here."

He understood quickly.

"Of course. I'll get Harry and Ron." He startled when she jumped, reaching out to grasp his sleeve.

"Please don't mention it to them; I don't want them to worry. Just tell them I took ill and needed to lie down, and they musn't come after me. Please tell Harry I'll see him tomorrow." She pleaded, tucking her wand back into her pocket.

Neville sighed and nodded, then looked at the half-unconscious wizard on the floor. "What about him?"

Hermione glared at Cormac and drew her wand. "Incarcerous."

Ropes appeared and restrained Cormac, who rolled onto his side, glaring at them both.

"What if someone finds him?"

"If they have enough sense, they'll leave him alone."

They walked out from behind the tree together, she leaning into him until they reached the doors and hugged at the exit. Hermione went immediately to McGonagall's office and Neville dove back into the party to find the Head of House and let her know what had happened, and where to find the culprit.

A curious pair of brown eyes watched the two people closely as they spoke and when one left, and the other made his way to Potter and Weasely, saying something that left them both obviously worried. One made to leave after the girl immediately, but the messenger held him back, repeating something firmly, to which the Golden Boy hung back, defeated. This was certainly interesting news to Blaise; he smiled as he watched.

_Draco's going to have a fit…_

He walked away quickly, intent to deliver the news to his friend.


	11. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. This story is just my idea, and has probably been done loads of times before.

Everything in his vision was swirl of motion and colour. As he moved with his partner he couldn't keep his eyes from straying. Seeking. By comparison they were the best dancers out of the whole lot stumbling around the great room, he moved with pride and sureness and Daphne kept up with no trouble at all. Once or twice she had tried to start a conversation but Draco had not been in the mood for talk; though he'd had plans for bedding the witch after the ball now all he could think about was Granger, and in consequence ignored his partner, which left her in a darkened mood.

She twisted suddenly in his grip and Draco glanced down in surprise but she had only turned to make a face at a friend who stood nearby and was now laughing. When she turned back her smile faded fast and their eyes met, Draco understood the look had been a jab at him. Before the dance her bright black eyes had shone with excitement and a hint of desire; now only contempt revealed itself. Draco understood his behavior had incited this, her pride was wounded and he should have apologized but he didn't care to. Daphne looked away at last and held her chin high, and didn't look at him for the remainder of the song.

Like a statue carved from marble she had a stately air and cold demeanor that drew others to her wherever she went but where Daphne was ice Hermione was fire, and even now, like a child lost in a dark forest his eyes sought her out, his burning flame, wherever she might be. He closed his eyes, bringing forth the memory of his little bird in his arms, twisting and moving her body along with his as gracefully as a ballerina. That luminous smile.

She would be his soon.

Taking upon Blaise's comment, he'd written a letter to his father, informing him on his progress on his mission. He'd asked to inquire of the Dark Lord if he could bring himself a 'souvenir' if his mission went well. The reply had come quickly, and the answer pleased Draco immensely.

The Dark Lord had agreed. In his words, according to his father _, "'Draco may bring whatever souvenir he wishes from Hogwarts, should his mission be successful. However, do not let this distract from the mission at hand, or a heavy price must be paid.'"_

A cold shiver ran its way up his spine, but he paid it no mind, and turning back to the present, bowed as the dance ended. Daphne curtsied, and he took her hand and led her back to the tables and chairs in a secluded corner, where Blaise and Pansy were sitting. Fanning herself and looking rather cross, Pansy was talking to Blaise and pointedly not looking at him. Blaise didn't seem to care, but said something in reply and caught Draco's eye, then shifted his gaze to the side quickly. Draco nodded. Taking Daphne's hand and leading her to a seat, where she stiffly sat down, he said, " I must be gone a moment. Excuse me." Daphne nodded and turned away, already calling to Pansy.

Once Draco would have felt the sting of her indifference, even if he had caused it, and would have become angry, but he understood the damage had been done, and Daphne had moved on. As he followed Blaise Draco caught a glimpse of Potter and Weasley, who appeared immensely worried, speaking to each other in low tones as Lavender Brown hovered nearby, unsure of what to do.

They walked a good distance away from the Great Hall, ending up on the fifth floor in a seldom used classroom. Blaise held open the door and Draco stepped in quickly.

Blaise sat on the desk in front of the room, straightening his suit.

"Where is she?" Draco asked. "She wasn't with Potter or Weasley, and she wasn't on the dance floor either."

Blaise peered at him from the corner of his eye. "The last they saw her, she was dancing with Potter. I heard them talking; apparently that McLaggen fellow was dancing with her. I looked around a bit, though, and saw a bit of motion behind one of the Christmas trees. I was going to go investigate when Granger and Longbottom walked out from behind it. Both looked like they'd had a good snog, to be truthful. She was hugging him and kissed him on the cheek. He said something that alarmed her and by the looks of it, she was begging him for something. They kept looking over to Potter, and they both looked really worried. Granger left the hall and he went to speak with Potter, who looked worried after they spoke. Tried to go after her but Longbottom stopped him."

Draco's fists clenched and he glared at Blaise. "Granger and Longbottom. You're sure." Blaise nodded.

He swore loudly and paced around the room, kicking at a chair that was unfortunate enough to be in his way. Hearing it clatter to the farther end of the room, he turned, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

"You're _absolutely_ sure about this."

Blaise grinned. "When have I ever lied to you?" Draco slammed his hand on the desk. The other Slytherin didn't even flinch.

"You better not be lying about this, Zabini."

Blaise glared at him now, losing his patience. "D'you need a bloody Wizard's Oath? I'm not lying, for fuck's sake."

Draco nodded and stood up, his cold eyes distant.

"Did your father ever reply to your letter?" Blaise asked. Draco nodded. "What did he say?"

"The Dark Lord has approved of it so long as Dumbledore is dealt with."

"So you'll be taking her? The Mudblood, I mean."

Draco twitched at the word 'Mudblood' and nodded, turning back to the window.

"On the same day I complete my task."

Blaise looked up, curious. "Any word on _exactly_ when that will be?"

"Spring," was all Draco could say.

"Exactly how will you take her, though? She'll be fighting with the Order, and she's not an easy one to take down."

"I know. We'll overwhelm her and take her out. If that fails, I use Dumbledore as a bargaining tool."

"But you're supposed to kill him."

"I know. And I will kill him, whether she agrees to come or not. If we fail in bringing her then I'm sure the Dark Lord will help me find a way to do so later on."

"And you're sure the Dark Lord will go to all this trouble just for one girl?" Blaise tried to keep the doubt from his voice, and failed.

Draco's eyes flashed. "She is bound to have valuable information. The Dark Lord would be a fool to not take advantage of that if he can't get Potter."

Blaise leaned back, mulling it all over. He swung his legs and stood up from the desk, clapping his hands.

"Sounds like a plan," he announced.

* * *

After her talk with McGonagall Hermione was in too foul a mood to change out of her dress. It was over fairly quickly, she'd told the Professor what happened and had willingly supplied the memory when asked, though she loathed having to relive it so soon after. The damning evidence warranted there was no need to question Cormac. He had been sobered up with some potions and had his nose healed, but because of other similar reports on his record he had been expelled, and the last Hermione saw of him he was waiting for his parents to come at McGonagall's urging via Floo.

The process was simple but had left her feeling quite exhausted. During the questioning she had almost told them about Malfoy's harrassment but had faltered when she realized that she would have to supply the memories of each instance as evidence, and while with Cormac she had only one, there were several concerning Malfoy.

What would they think of it all? She hated to think they would see what he had done to her, as if felt more disturbing and personal than what Cormac had done to her. They would look at her memories and see that she had hardly fought back though not by her own intention. They would see that she had dealt with it in her own way, and through the time lapsing between each assault they would see that she had chosen not to tell. 

Would they assume she liked it? Would they think her weak? Stupid for falling for it so often? Malfoy's threats from their dance floated back to her, and added to her insecurity. To tell or not? In the end, she had said nothing else and was not sure that she had made the right choice. 

Now she was back in the empty corridor, hands still shaking, and her legs ached from the dancing and from her hasty flight back up, she'd have liked to go slower, but she had not wanted to be seen. Luckily, there hadn't been a single soul out of the great hall which made her smile bitterly. At least the ball had been a success.

She reached her destination and looking 'round, unlocked the door quickly and stepped inside, making sure to lock it behind her. The silence of the room was deafening, crashing down around her ears like waves till her ears buzzed-or was that just the exhaustion? She walked past the rows and rows of books, intent on reaching her desired place.

Her eyes felt heavy and her face was itchy. She wiped at her cheeks, attempting to rub off the dry streams of tears. Her head spun and she barely made it to the window seat when the tears began to spill.

Anger at Cormac and Malfoy, embarrassment and worry for Harry, gratitude for Neville spilled out of her eyes as she sobbed into the soft material of the cushions around her. She shook, wondering if Cormac would actually have gone so far as to rape her in his drunken stupor. It seemed likely. Malfoy's threat had resurfaced in her thoughts as well, as if the might had not gone badly enough. Her whole body shook, and she let it, for once letting her emotions run.

How awful an experience that had been, how terrible it felt to not be able to defend herself, even with her wand at hand, against someone she never would have considered capable of committing such an atrocity.

What force on Earth made them think they were entitled to her body? Just what had taken the place of their brains that they would behave in such a way? Hermione had heard the other girls talk about this before, about their experiences where "no" meant nothing to their attackers. She remembered the looks on their faces, their hushed voices, the anger lying beneath. She had never experienced it before until now, and she joined in that anger.

For once, the aroma of the old books surrounding her could not comfort her. The lovely, soothing colored light weakly streaming in from the window only bothered her. When she fell asleep she didn't know, but one moment she had been conscious and the next she had slipped down into nothingness, her thoughts and emotions blurring into one large, dangerous cloud in her dream, far off in the murky horizon, but she knew it was coming closer. She could feel the menacing presence it beheld, and realized it was coming straight for her.

* * *

Draco strode through the hallways, his anger seeping into his veins, his lungs, his bones. All at once he wanted to go find Longbottom and rip him apart, limb by limb, and Potter too, but first he needed to find Granger. He hissed the password to their dorm and burst through the door, glancing around to find the girl. Nothing. Unlocked her door with a flick of his wand and stepped through, not caring about the amount of noise he was making, and it didn't matter anyway because she wasn't there either.

Mind racing angrily, he strode back to the common room.

_Where is she?_

He closed his eyes and thought hard as to where she might be. She'd left Potter and Weasley, according to Blaises' report she had not wanted to see them before she'd left.

_She must be hiding from them, then,_ he thought. That ruled out the Gryffindor Common Room, which was good, because he never would have been able to get in. He rifled through his mind, wondering where she could have run off to when it hit him. The one place she always was; like a second home to her.

The library.

He set off at a brisk pace, almost running.

The library was closed, but that didn't stop him. Surely it wouldn't have deterred Granger, either. He expected a series of complicated spells to stop him from entering, but there was nothing. A silent Alohamora opened the door and he was inside, shutting the doors behind him with a click. For extra measure, he added a Silencio art the entrance, so no noise could escape the cavernous room.

Though he couldn't quite recall the exact location, his legs seemed to have a perfect memory, taking long strides to the area he distantly remembered.

* * *

The cloud was coming closer and closer in her dream; thunderclaps rang out like loud, demanding footsteps. She frowned, wishing it would go away, but it didn't. It only came faster, if anything.

* * *

There she was at last.

Cuddled into the window seat, her back to him. Her curls were coming back, the shimmery hair pins sliding out of her hair and onto the floor with soft _plinks._ In all her haste, she'd bunched up the skirt of her dress around her thighs so she could walk faster. Her white legs stretched out, intertwined on the dark cushion, and her arms lay folded over her face, shielding her eyes.

She was shivering hard, her shoulders and legs shaking. He wondered why she hadn't changed; it was freezing in the library. But that wasn't important right now.

"Granger," he barked, and she jumped, jerking awake from her nap.

* * *

She was confused, blinking her eyes rapidly, her pale face turning white when she saw him standing a few feet away from her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Fear rose up in her chest at the look in his face. "What do you want?"

"What happened between you and Longbottom?" he asked, looking at her with such intensity she felt naked again, not only because of the way he was looking at her, but because he was invading this space.

Why was he here? Why was he asking her that? How had he remembered this place? She cursed herself for ever having brought him here.

"Nothing," she whispered. She hated how weak she sounded. Clearing her throat, she added, "And it's none of your business, too, so clear off."

She rose, brushing her skirt back down over her legs. She straightened and noted with dismay he was blocking the exit.

"Don't lie to me," he whispered. "You were seen cavorting with Longbottom behind one of the trees. Do you deny it?"

She stared up at him, incredulous.

"Why does it matter? This doesn't concern you," she asked angrily, losing her patience. She fingered her wand, waiting to strike.

Malfoy stepped closer, and she backed away, stepping behind the table.

"Let me out, Malfoy. Madam Pince is here, I'll scream for help," she warned, hoping he wouldn't see through her lie.

But he did, because he stepped around the table, saying, "No she's not, pet. She was dancing with the Headmaster when I left. It's only you and I here. Now tell me why you left Potter to go with Longbottom."

His voice was low, lower than she'd ever heard it. It sent a shock of ice down her body, and she rounded the table, stopping when he followed her.

"I didn't leave Harry. Neville was helping me." She said, drawing out her wand. "Is that the answer you want? Now let me out or I'll hex you to pieces."

Malfoy grinned. "Helping you with what?"

She raised her chin, trying hard not to let him see her hands shaking. "I-I fell."

His eyes narrowed. " _Liar_."

He took several steps closer and foolishly, she took more steps back, until she was trapped against a bookshelf with nowhere to run. She cursed herself for not thinking straight, raising her wand to stop the blond wizard from coming any closer.

"Do you really think that will stop me?" he murmured, smirking.

Her breathing quickened; her lungs felt too small to hold the air she needed so desperately.

"Leave me alone," she spat, eyes blazing.

Lightning fast, he pinned her to the shelves, yanking her wand from her fist, and she cried out in rage. Hermione felt him place his palms on her cheeks, felt him lean in. She pushed against him, snarling with fear and anger.

"No!" she cried, "Get off me!"

Draco frowned, concentrating. He'd been taught Legimency at an early age by one of the masters; Snape himself. The only way he would get answers out of her was to employ it. Closing his eyes, he emptied his mind and focused on hers, drawing her thoughts to himself. The witch gave a small cry when she realized what he was doing and struggled harder against him, but he didn't move. He rifled through her memories of the events of the day in reverse, starting with her breaking into the library. Went back and sped up a bit, rewinding until he found her dancing with McLaggen. He watched what happened afterwards, fury knotting in his stomach. Watched as Neville came in to help, heard their exchange of pleas, and felt her fear and humiliation, her anger and a hint of shame.

Ending the spell brought him back to her, back into reality, restraining a furious Granger, who was yelling at him thickly through her tears. Jealousy and anger overtook him, and he crashed his lips onto hers, licking up her salty tears and unbuckling his belt quickly, fingers flying.

Hermione let out a frustrated scream into his mouth, pushing against his chest, trying to turn away. Like before he didn't listen to a word she said, only kissed her more deeply. She tried leaning back so he would lose his balance but he only grabbed her and pulled her closer to him. She felt him wind a warm, leathery object around her wrists and she jerked away, commanding him to stop. He pulled away and tied his belt securely, trapping her wrists. She was leaning back into the bookshelf, gasping for breath and regarding him as if he were insane.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she hissed, her eyes large and disbelieving. How many times had she asked him already? Why did he never answer? "Have you gone mad?"

He stepped closer to her. "I want you."

At hearing his confession she froze, and then let out a harsh, quick laugh. "Surely you're drunk. Untie me _right now_."

The command was ignored-he grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the window seat, forcing her down onto it. Hermione was so stunned she didn't have time to react as he straddled her, holding her tied wrists above her head.

"I assure you I'm not drunk." He pressed a kiss to her neck and her lips parted in shock.

"You've taken over me," he admitted hoarsely. "I don't know how you did it, little bird, but I only want to return the favor." She shuddered in revulsion.

Hermione's mind was reeling. She tugged her wrists, trying to slip them out of his belt. It was pulled so tight her hands were starting to lose feeling.

"I haven't done anything to you so I don't know what you're talking about. Now let me go. _Please._ " She frowned, shivering when he chuckled and licked the shell of her ear.

"No doing, pet. Why would I let my little bird go when I've only just caught her? You belong to me."

He watched as her face drained of color and she stared up at him, her lovely eyes wide with shock and rage.

"You don't _own_ me, you waste of magic. I belong to no one but myself." She gave a small shriek as he nipped her bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood.

"No-Malfoy, this isn't funny anymore. Let me go or I'll scream." Her words only seemed to energize him, he buried his head in her hair and inhaled, running his hand down her curves possessively.

"No one will hear you," he whispered, and her blood ran cold.

Malfoy pulled back and grinned at her, a full smile that showed teeth. It was the first time she'd ever seen him smile like that, and it terrified her.

"Get it into that thick skull of yours. You are mine, Granger. You bear my mark." That last sentence confused her, so he reached out and untied her wrists, only freeing her left arm. The second he'd freed it she flexed her arm and brought it quickly to the side, as if to push him off, but he caught her wrist and roughly brought her arm closer to him. His other hand hovered over the crook of her elbow.

"What are you doing? What mark?" she asked, mild hysteria edging her voice.

"I marked you a while back, Granger. You just don't remember, but that's my doing." He placed his palm over her skin, muttering, "Finite Incantatem."

Slowly, her skin revealed a thin scar shaped like an ornate M. Horrified, Hermione sucked in a breath. "No. _No_. That's not possible. Where did this come from?" she recoiled in horror when he drew his wand and tapped it lightly on her forehead, restoring her memories of that night.

He watched as her eyes unfocused and she gasped at what was playing in her mind. When it was over her eyes refocused and she looked back at her scar in shock, tears in her eyes.

"M.." she whispered, lip quivering.

"M for Malfoy." He stole a hard kiss from her lips.

"M for _**mine**_." Reverently he ran his hand down the length of her thigh and hooked her leg around his waist roughly. She gasped and glared up at him, tears in her eyes.

"You disgusting bastard," she hissed.

He was looking at her looking at her scar. A tear slipped down her face. Her lips parted and her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashed back up to his.

She held out her hand. "Give me my wand. I don't want any part of you on me." He arched an eyebrow at her. "No."

She pushed her arm at him more aggressively. "I don't want this. Get rid of it or I'll make you pay, Malfoy, I swear it." Tears quivered in her eyes, her lips began to tremble when he leered at her.

"It's a reminder, Granger. So next time you flirt with Potter or anyone else you'll remember who you belong to."

She shook her head and tried yanking her arm out of his grasp, crying out in pain as he held it tighter and then leaned down to suck at her neck.

"No! Get off me!" she shouted. In response, he lowered himself onto her body and pushed his hips against hers, and for the first time she felt his arousal. Malfoy groaned and retied her arm with the other, magically fastening them to the wall. The girl continued to shout and protest. The screams filled the air around them, piercing both their ears, but none reached outside. He silenced her with a jab of his wand.

As he ran his large hands down to her chest, which was heaving with panicked breaths he felt her frantic heartbeat. Her skin was so soft and smooth, the tops of her breasts rose and fell with each breath, enticing him to cup them with his hands through her dress. Her cry was silenced due to the spell, tears leaked from her brown eyes. When he raised his eyes to hers she shook her head quickly, raising her brows in a silent plea.

"Don't worry, ma petite oiseau, I won't take you yet. This is hardly the proper place. But-" he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small green box, "I do have a little gift for you."

Her eyes told him exactly what she thought of his gift.

"Don't look at me like that. You'll like it, I'm sure." He lifted something small and delicate out of the box and held the item in his hands, shielding it from her view.

Moving quickly, he reached up and untied both of her hands, bringing them down into her lap. She grimaced at her stiff muscles and flexed her hands. The second he let go of one of her arms to pick the mysterious object from his hand she brought her palm to his face with a silent roar.

Before the blow could land he had caught her wrist as easily as if it were a Snitch. Thwarted in her revenge, the witch glared at him and tried to push him away with her other arm even though it was still in his grip. Malfoy held her arms tighter, cutting off the circulation to her hands.

"Stop fighting me, Granger. There's no use for it." He slid the small object onto her ring finger of her left hand. Realizing what it was, she tried to jerk her hand away, but it was too late.

The ring was large and antique, and breathtakingly beautiful. A large green emerald sat in the middle of a cluster of small diamonds, catching the little amount of light there was coming from the window and reflecting it onto her hand.

The look she gave it was one of pure contempt. She met his eyes and mouthed, "What is the meaning of this?"

He traced his finger lightly over the ring and flipping over her hand, along the veins in her palm. She closed her hand into a tight little fist and he let her, going back to the ring.

"The meaning of this ring is that you are mine, Hermione," he said in a cold, controlled voice. She started and stared at his nonchalant use of her first name. "I put a few charms on it, as well. You may not have any intimate or sexual contact with anyone of the opposite sex other than myself or anyone I have granted permission to touch you."

He noticed how her skin drained of all color at this, and cupping her cheek, said, "You misunderstand me. I won't be sharing you with anyone else. I don't take kindly to sharing. What's mine is mine."

"If you try and have relations with somebody else you won't find it so easy, and I will know. With this ring, I'll know your exact location and who you're with."

Outraged, she shook her head, her lips spewing silent expletives.

"You may not tell anyone of what has happened here or of any of what I've told you today. You may not speak of it, write of it, or use any other means of communication to try to tell someone about this. Understand?"

He lifted the Silencio and immediately she spat on his cheek.

"How _dare_ you think you can control me? You have no say at all over what I do! I don't want this, any of it. I am not yours to own." She moved to yank the ring off her finger but he stopped her, a curious smile on his lips.

Wiping the spittle off his skin, he said calmly, "Another thing I forgot to mention. Only I may take the ring off." He could see the gears turning in her head, could see her eyes flitting up to the books around them. "There's no other way, little bird."

She didn't listen, grasping the ring in her finger and desperately attempting to pull it off. It didn't budge. She looked up at him then, tears in her eyes clouding the fury and confusion.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Carefully, he stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes. At that proximity he could see the specks of gold in her eyes. Crystalline tears hung wet on the tips of her lashes, ready to drop at any second.

"You're the only girl in the bloody school who has brains enough to compete with me for best in our year."

"Don't twist it," she cut in angrily, "all these years it was _you_ who could hardly catch up, even now. You don't deserve this position _and you know it!_ "

"The fact of the matter is that the position is mine, and if I truly didn't deserve it, it would have been taken from me months ago."

She opened her mouth for a vicious rebuttal but he covered it with his palm.

"You're unlike anyone I've ever known. No other is as intelligent, nor fierce as you. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. Have you ever read any of those fairytale books as a child?" he didn't wait for her to answer. "The dragons always hoard gold and jewels, treasures and princesses. Well, pet, you're my Princess," he leaned in closer still, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke. She frowned and shut her eyes, turning her head. Still trapped in his grip, her hands curled into fists.

"You're so _innocent_ ," he whispered huskily, trailing his hand up her neck to cup her jaw. He tilted her head to look up at him and her eyes opened, staring wide-eyed at him. "Worth more than any treasure."

Her mind couldn't grasp what was happening. This was too much, too much. First the awful dance, then Cormac, now Malfoy again? His words were barely registering in her mind anymore. After the ring had been forced onto her finger she'd felt herself slipping into...not shock, but she didn't have another word for what she felt now. After everything that had happened tonight she was almost at her wit's end.

She needed out. She couldn't handle this, not now.

Draco couldn't take it anymore and kissed her hard, ravaging her lips with his own. She stilled beneath him, not reacting.

He forced his tongue into her mouth again, and she forced down the bile that rose up her throat. She needed to get away- _now_. His erection was pressed against her lower body, hard and unforgiving, making her skin crawl. He had been holding onto her arms until that point, he slid his arms to her body and ran them down along her stomach, gathering her skirt to push out of the way. Hermione fought him in this, but eventually he had got it all out of the way and had bared her legs. 

"So lovely," he whispered, his hands on her hips, exploring her soft skin, the heat between her thighs. He touched her through her underwear, and Hermione jerked in fear, her face drained of color. 

"NO!" she screamed, taking advantage of her free arms, she pushed him off her as hard as she could and stood up, looking for her wand. She was searching as quickly as she could, but he was getting back up, snarling and she saw her wand in his pocket.

"Give me my wand," she hissed wildly, reaching for it.

He tucked it into his jacket.

"I didn't want this, either."

Perplexed, caught in surprise by his words, she stopped. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted so much to keep hating you like I did before. The first time I kissed you it meant hardly anything, it was nothing more than a morbid impulse." He advanced slowly, forcing her to continue edging backwards, feeling her path with her hands.

She couldn't look away from his eyes. All this had to be a dream, it was so absurd.

"By the second kiss you'd already infected me," he said bitterly.

" _Infected?"_

"I don't mind as much, now." He gave her a grim smile. "I should have known this years ago, but I suppose in my prejudice I've been willfully blind."

Her expression was of utter disbelief. "You've been ignorant as well as blind if you still don't understand that my feelings are the exact opposite of yours!"

"I understand completely," he said.

"Then _why_ ignore it?"

"Because it doesn't suit me."

Hermione's blood ran cold.

A sob welled up in her throat-she stifled it and ran, not bothering to pick up her skirt in her haste. The fabric flowed behind her and he grabbed for it, barely grasping the material before it slipped out of his reach.

What had gone wrong, and how? They had been getting along just fine ever since she had confronted him what felt like years ago-as bad as his behavior was before, he'd never shown the level of absolute lunacy he was showing now. Had he been hiding this part of himself all this time? Or had his self proclaimed obsession warped his mind?

One thing was certain: she had to get help. The biggest mistake she had ever made was not reporting him directly after the first assault. It was time to rectify that before it was too late

_It already is too late,_ a voice whispered to her. _You're wearing his ring. He said it will prevent you from telling anyone._

Hermione could only hope he had said that as a means to frighten her into silence.

The exit was drawing near. Hermione went for it as fast as she could.

* * *

Hot on her trail, Draco swore, looking around. He had been so close and then she'd gone and ducked somewhere and he'd lost her. He strained his ears and listened close.

He could hear her bare feet against the old wood flooring, scurrying father away. He followed the sounds immediately.

* * *

She was trying to breathe as quietly as possible, only that was exceptionally hard because of how frightened she was.

_Stop being such a bloody coward. Are you a Gryffindor or not_? A shrewd voice in the back of her mind asked.

She ignored it. She had every right to be scared right now. Everything she'd gone through the whole day was crashing down on her, and she felt sick. She had to get out of there.

Moving quick as a snitch she silently made her way through the maze of books, pausing every now and then when she would hear a strange sound somewhere behind her.

_It's probably a mouse, and nothing else,_ she said to herself. She sharpened her gaze and looked around carefully. _Where did he go?_

She hoped to the Gods he'd gone already.

There they were, the doors that would lead to her safety. Hermione had no clue how much time had passed since she'd come here. Perhaps the ball was over and the students would be out in the hall, mingling. If that was the case, then she would be safe.

She ran the last few feet to the doors, almost tripping over her gown in her haste.

She turned the doorknob but the door didn't open. She tried the other.

"Alohamora!" she whispered, and to her immense relief they opened just a fraction. She began to push them open faster, and got a peek off the corridor-empty.

Footsteps behind her. She heard his furious voice say something quickly. The doors slammed in her  face.

_Nononono!_

She jumped when he grabbed her and turned her around to face him. She raised her bent arm to strike him in the face with her elbow. He dodge it and restrained her arm. Hermione struggled to be let free.

"Having trouble, love?" he whispered.

"Give me my wand, Malfoy, and let me out. And take this bloody ring off me this instant," she snarled, hoping he would not see through her façade of bravery.

"As you wish, Granger. But you're keeping the ring. It's rude to give back a gift, you know."

He unlocked the door, and she stepped out quickly, looking around her once. There was still nobody around. She held out her hand for her wand.

"No goodnight kiss?" he asked, pretending to be upset.

Hermione struck at his chest, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "No. _Never_. You're a monster, Malfoy. I hope you rot in Azkaban once you're expelled. I'll make sure of it!"

Draco laughed and pressed her wand into her palm. His voice turned threatening. "If you tell anyone what happened tonight you'll be sorry."

Without waiting for her reply he walked off. Seizing her chance, Hermione turned her wand on him and prepared to utter a curse.

"There's no use trying to hex me or anything, Granger. The ring prevents that as well." Hermione didn't believe him, but when her Stupefy glanced off his back she took a step back in shock, and then sent another, and produced the same result. By that time she was livid, and about ready to run after him and demand to know what he'd done, when he turned and gave her a wink from the end of the corridor. Clutching her wand, Hermione instantly decided against it.

_He wanted me to follow._

"Goodnight, little bird," his voice echoed back to her, and by the time she looked up, he had gone.

Suddenly alone in the dark corridor, Hermione wanted to disappear. She wanted the floor to swallow her and take her somewhere else. Luckily the Christmas break started tomorrow, and she would be going to the Burrow with Harry and Ron.

Despair filled her again. What would she do about the ring? There was no way in hell she could go around anywhere with it on. It would draw attention, and even worse, it would allow Malfoy to think he'd won. She had to get Malfoy to take it off, but when? They left for the Burrow the next morning so she'd have to do it tonight.

The prospect of sneaking into his chambers was terrifying, but she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, calming her mind. Who was Malfoy to think she was nothing better than a possession? Who was he to claim her as his without her consent? An unexpected shudder ran through her, and goosebumps rose up on her skin. She fingered her wand, looking in the direction he had left. She wasn't going without a fight.


	12. Wishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

The shadows loomed along the walls, shrouding the large room in a veil of secrets and danger. Some time ago the fire had been extinguished, an unnatural chill permeated the atmosphere, and she was glad she had changed into warmer clothing. To muffle her footsteps she'd worn her thickest pair of socks. It was late, so very late, and her eyes were heavy and her limbs ached but she needed to do this.

Approaching his door carefully, she nervously gripped her wand and pulled up her sleeve, shuddering when she caught a glimpse of the ring on her finger. After the terrible events that had occurred earlier entering Malfoy's room was the last thing she wanted to do but just looking at the ring filled her with anger and reminded her why she had to get it off.

The weak moon beams coming in from the windows highlighted her frame, catching in her curls and illuminating her tense face. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to have to do this, but she had no choice. She hated Malfoy, and he thinking she was rightfully his was an enormous mistake on his part.

_No one controls me._

Hoping it wouldn't squeak, she turned the knob and entered swiftly, crouching low just in case. Keeping the knob turned she closed the door and behind her, grasping the door knob a bit harder than was needed, but let it go at last, and to her relief, no sound was made. Immediately she turned to face his bed and sighed quietly in relief again. He was asleep. Taking slow steps, she reached his bed and raised her wand.

He was spread out on his back, one arm pushed underneath his pillow, the other on his chest and she frowned, furious at seeing him so relaxed. For the first time it occurred to her he might have expected her to come in to get the ring off, and was simply waiting for the right moment to strike again.

Hermione took three steps back at once, watching him, waiting for him to move. Malfoy slept on-for once, totally oblivious to her presence. On impulse she glanced around the room quickly, looking for his wand. It wasn't on the night table, nor anywhere else she could see. What if he did know she was there? Merlin, she should have planned this better. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, his lips slightly parted, his long lashes fluttered. An idea struck her and she raised her wand, and spelled him into a deeper sleep, letting her stiff shoulders drop as he let out a cool gust of air from between his lips and his head sank deeper into his pillow.

Switching her wand to her left hand, she muttered an almost inaudible accio for his wand, which gently flew out from underneath his pillow. That was somewhat reassuring, she figured, holding it tight in her fist. So far so good, but now came the hard part. Now she had to touch him.

Gently, gently, she eased his hand up off his chest, making sure she wasn't touching any more of him than she had to. With shaking fingers she brought his arm up and wrapped his fingers around the platinum band on her finger. A twist and a hard pull next, and to her absolute joy the ring slid right off. Malfoy stirred then and she jumped, watching as he turned to face her on his side. She stood for a few seconds with bated breath, heart threatening to tear out of her chest, until she was sure he was still again, she softly set his hand back down onto his chest.

It was over. Sweating, Hermione stepped back and looked at the ring with disgust and triumph. What would she do with it? It wouldn't be a good idea to keep it with her, but if she left it there with him then surely he would find a way to get it back on her.

It wouldn't do to stand here and try to figure that out. _I'll keep it for now, and destroy it later,_ she decided. Heart pounding, she glanced at him once more to ensure he was still asleep, padded over to the door and turned the knob, stepping quickly out into the common room and practically ran to her own room, spending five frantic minutes warding her door, just in case.

The sun would rise soon, and she needed to leave quickly or risk Malfoy catching her in the morning. She pointed her wand in the direction of her dresser and several items of clothing flew out as she brought out her trunk from under her four poster bed. The clothes folded themselves and neatly piled into the trunk, and she summoned her bag of toiletries and other things she would need for her stay at the Burrow. Once she was packed, she shrank the trunk and tucked it into her pocket, shivering when her fingers brushed against the ring. She unwarded her door and slipped out, fastening her cloak around herself, and ghosted out of the Head Common Room, headed for her intended hideout until tomorrow morning.

Protected from Filch and his ghastly cat by a Disillusionment charm, she walked silently through the halls until she reached her destination. Walking back and forth, her mind set on what she needed, she smiled weakly when the door appeared. Casting a furtive glance around the area, she walked into the room.

* * *

"The train will be leaving soon, what d'you reckon is keeping her?" Ron asked, looking worriedly around the area for his friend.

Harry was also craning his neck this way and that, his bespectacled green eyes roving through the crowd of departing students for the girl he'd been extremely worried about since the night before. Ginny and Lavender waited nearby, speaking with Luna, who seemed to be the only one who wasn't worried about their friend. Pale hair fluttering in the winter winds, she smiled dreamily and squeezed her companion's hand. Neville looked down at her, mustering a small smile from underneath his thick hat. The intense worry didn't leave his eyes, though. He was the only one out of them all who knew what had happened to Hermione the previous night, and he hoped she was ok. He silently berated himself for having let her go to her dorm by herself.

What if something had happened? What had happened to McLaggen after they'd left? Questions ran through his mind, and he tried to silence them with all his strength, but it was futile.

A small, warm mitten pressed against his cheek and he looked down once more to his girlfriend, whose face held no expression, but she stood on her toes and whispered softly, "She'll be ok."

Snowflakes began to fall in fat, heavy clumps, and it they all realized they could not stand there for much longer. Ron sighed and clapped Harry on the back. "Don't worry mate, even if she misses the train, you know McGonagall will help her get to the Burrow." He called for his sister and her little group to board the train, but just as Ginny clambered inside, the missing party arrived.

Hermione appeared exhausted, faint circles curving under her eyes, her lips held in a small frown, and her eyes were anxious and scared but most of all apologetic. Hair secured under her knit cap, the winds danced harshly on her skin, rousing pink coloring in her nose and cheeks.

The silence broke as Harry rushed forward and enveloped her in his arms, and everyone else thought they should leave the two alone and find a compartment before they were all full. Hermione relaxed, inwardly cursing the tears that had sprung up behind her eye lids. He pulled back, and studied her face anxiously.

"Are you all right? What happened last night? We-I was so worried about you."

She opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment a piercing train whistle sliced through the air and they jumped.

"I'll tell you once we're inside, Harry. But we need to be alone."

He nodded and guided her before him into the train, along with the last students who had stayed on the platform to say their goodbyes to their friends.

They walked silently through the train cars, looking for an empty compartment. When they passed the one that held their friends, they waved, but held up a finger to indicate they would come back in a matter of time.

Eventually they finally found a compartment; all the way at the back of the train. He slid the door open and she entered, sitting by the window. He closed the door and the blinds, and approached her slowly. He didn't know whether to sit next to her or across from her. A second or two ticked by and he sat across from her, placing his hands on his knees. She looked up at him, embarrassed.

"Harry, I'm so sorry for deserting you at the ball." Her eyes shone with tears and he jumped up and sat next to her, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder.

"Hermione, don't worry about that. What matters is if you're okay. What happened?"

She drew back, meeting his eye. "Cormac attacked me."

His eyes widened, and his face turned red. His scar seemed emphasized against his skin by the reaction.

"We danced after you left and he was drunk. He pushed me behind one of the trees and tried to kiss me but I fought him off.I asked him not to tell you because I didn't want you to worry." She gave a shaky laugh. "Silly of me, though, because you were worried anyway." She looked at him, frowning. "Harry?"

He reached out and ensnared the girl in his arms, giving her a bone-crushing hug that left her speechless.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, holding her head in his hands. "I didn't know-if I did, I would never have left-" She smacked him on the arm.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this," she said in a severe tone. "Neither of us knew he was drunk or what was going to happen."

"What happened after? Is he in the train?" Harry looked like he too wanted to break Cormac's nose, along with several other bones in his body.

"Neville helped me report him and he's been expelled."

Harry relaxed a little.

"Good." He shook his head. "I can't believe he did that to you."

"According to his record, he's done it before, too," Hermione said. " Professor McGonagall was so angry, I felt she might have turned him to dust with just one look."

"Shame she didn't." Harry rubbed at his face. "I wish I could have been there to help."

"You can still help me by not letting the word get out. I don't want anyone else to know."

"Of course."

"I was so excited for the ball to be a lovely night," she said, her face turning red, tears gathering in her eyes. "As if the dance with Malfoy wasn't bad enough."

Harry let her lean in him and rubbed her arm. She sniffed.

"He looked off, didn't he?" he asked. "Not exactly angry, but something else. What did he say to you?"

Hermione paused. The ring grew heavy in her pocket.

_Should I tell him about Malfoy, too?_

She opened her mouth to speak. An ominous, overpowering wave of dread washed over her _._ Hermione didn't realize it came from the ring _._

_'If you tell anyone, you'll be sorry.'_

Would he know? What would he do if he found out?

"He...he was surprised I knew how to dance. He warned me not to embarass him _."_

_Among other things..._

A tear escaped, then another. Hermione wiped them fast _._ She hated him _._

"What a prick," Harry muttered comfortingly. "I thought you danced better than him. He looked too serious."

 _If only you knew,_ she thought. The dread intensified. She clutched her stomach. A thought hit her suddenly. She paled.

"Is he on the train?"

Harry thought for a moment, unaware that every second without answer was agony for her.

"No. I haven't seen him since yesterday, actually."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin."

"Was the dance that bad?"

"If I still had my Time Turner, I'd break my own leg just to avoid it."

"Merlin." Harry grinned. "But then you wouldn't have been able to go with me."

Hermione smiled back weakly.

"There's something else," she said, looking down at her hands in her lap. "I don't quite know how to explain this," she began, threading her hair around her fingers.

She glanced at him and leaned back into the seat, frowning. How would she start it off? Should she show him the mark and the ring? Was now even the best time?

"Malfoy's been acting very strangely lately," she managed to say. "I think something's wrong with him."

Harry looked at her, his face patient, waiting for the rest of the story.

 _Should I tell him what happened last night? If I tell him, then when we go back to Hogwarts he'll know and he will be able to help._ ButMalfoy's threat came back to mind, and she fell silent. She didn't know what to do.

"I-I think he's up to something," she finished lamely, but inside her mind she was shouting out all the things he had done to her, including the ring; that blasted, evil ring that was burning a hole in her pocket.

Harry looked at her strangely, sensing there was something she wasn't telling him. She was biting her lip, deep in thought, and he knew he wouldn't pressure her to tell him if she didn't want to.

"Okay. When we go back, we'll keep an eye on him and try to figure out what he's up to."

Harry watched her carefully. She looked almost guilty. Reaching out, he placed his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. She squeezed back, having been lost in her thoughts, and wiped at her eyes again.

"Want to go back with everyone?" Harry offered.

"Not really," she admitted. "I didn't get much sleep last night; I'd rather stay here, if that's ok?"

"Fine by me." He let her rest her head on his shoulder, and as the train moved on, he stayed still, thinking she was asleep, when in fact, she was thinking of ways to destroy the small piece of jewelry in her pocket.

* * *

"Oh, Harry! Hermione! How are you, my dears?" Mrs. Weasely launched herself at them, folding her arms around them in a warm embrace, fussing over Harry's hair and taking Hermione's hands in hers, beaming at the young witch.

"We're fine, Mrs. Weasely," Hermione replied. "How are you?"

Mrs. Weasely sighed. "As well as can be expected, dear. The twins have turned the house into a joke shop, with all the things they've got lying around. Percy, Charlie and Bill weren't able to come, but they send their regards to everyone."

At that moment, a loud crack sounded in the air and Fred and George appeared next to their mother, smiling wickedly.

"Hello, Harry, Hermione, Ron," they chimed in unison.

Hermione laughed and hugged them both. Mrs. Weasley was gasping for breath and swatting them crossly with her wand.

"It's wonderful to see you two again," Hermione admitted. She had dearly missed their mischievousness around the school. Considering everything that had happened so far in the year, she could have used some of their silly antics to liven things up a bit at Hogwarts.

"Well, I swan! Misses us, she says! Never thought we'd hear that coming from you! Feel free to come down by our shop anytime, you hear? Special discounts for Head Girl!" Fred winked. Hermione laughed, nodding, and moved on with Harry who was being ushered to the dinner table by Molly.

Ron and Ginny were engaged in a duel with fake wands, jabbing at each other until the wands burst into silly shapes.

"Put those away, if you please!" snapped Molly, glaring at them over her shoulder by the stove. Flicking her wand, the bowls of soup flew over to the table, setting themselves down by each person. They all tucked in, famished from the train ride. Fred and George were sniggering into their bowls, and Hermione looked at Ron, who was looking strangely green.

Before she could ask what was wrong, Ron bolted from the table, clapping a hand to his mouth. The twins couldn't hold back any longer and laughed loudly, but when Mrs. Weasely came around, looking suspicious they sobered immediately, dipping their spoons back into their soup as if nothing had happened. Harry snorted into his soup.

George caught Hermione's eye and grinned, holding up a small, violently green packet of Cockroach Clusters. Hermione tried not to laugh.

The door opened at that moment, and Mr. Weasely bustled in, his face glowing brilliantly red from the cold.

"Evening, Weaselys! And honorary Weaselys!" he called out when he saw Harry and Hermione, and the party inside clamored about in reply.

Hermione smiled, feeling happier than she'd been in a long while. She loved it here, how they all felt like one big family to her. For the first time in several months, she felt at home.

* * *

Draco was tinkering with the wardrobe, but not really paying attention to what he was doing. His legs ached from standing for so long, so with a huff, he walked off in pursuit of somewhere comfortable to sit. Finding a large, cushioned armchair (that was badly burnt on one side,) he sank down into it, stretching out his long legs.

His father had commanded him to stay at Hogwarts for the break. Things weren't going well at the Manor at the moment, what with the Dark Lord popping up every now and then. His mother's health was failing, and though he had insisted to see her, she had also sent him a note, telling him not to get too distracted from his mission.

' _There will always be time to come visit me now that I have nothing to do,'_ her letter read, ' _but you must focus on what the Dark Lord has asked of you. The sooner you accomplish it the sooner you can come home.'_

She was right on some levels, he figured, but she was still his mother, and naturally he was worrying about her. But for now he was stuck here, in a nearly deserted school waiting for the new year to come. So he could prove himself. So he could have the witch who bore his ring.

He thought of his mission, resting his arms over the armchair, spreading his long fingers over the scorched velvet fabric. The wardrobe was almost ready. Still needed a bit of work, but he was almost there. Suddenly his mind shifted and he thought of her, her smile flashed before his eyes and he heard her beautiful laugh in his head. He recalled her, the feel of her waist under his hand, her soft, warm hand in his as they danced, the ends of her curls brushing his fingers, her eyes staring suspiciously up at his, the sparkling brown of her eyes reeling him in.

She would be with the Weasleys right now. Surrounded by a pack of blood-traitors and the majority of them men. _Potter_. His eyes narrowed. The fool actually thought he had a chance with Granger.

_She's mine._

His lips twitched as he remembered the ring. Thank Merlin he'd found it, or else Potter would be pawing at his property all throughout the holiday, and he couldn't have that, could he?

Standing back up, he slipped his wand into his pocket and left the secret room. He needed rest.

* * *

The days were flying by, and Christmas was approaching fast.

Hermione stretched out on her bed, snuggling a little deeper into her blankets. A soft snore could be heard coming from Ginny's bed. Hermione stifled a giggle and peered out from under her covers to her friend.

 _She looks so peaceful,_ she thought. Jealousy prodded at her heart. Ginny looked so untroubled and calm that Hermione wanted to cry. She wanted to feel calm, too.

She wished Voldemort was dead and all his followers gone.

She wished Harry could be happy again.

She wished Draco Malfoy didn't exist.

Or rather, she wished things could go back to the way they once were, and whatever sick obsession he had with her didn't exist at all. She wished she didn't feel so guilty every time she saw the ring. Every time she saw it, she would make up her mind to tell Harry right then. But then she'd catch herself walking out the door, the detested ornament clutched in her sweaty palm, and she'd remember why she couldn't tell him.

So she was stuck with her secret, literally feeling it drag her down every time she was around him. She wished someone would realize how strangely she was behaving-surely she wasn't the only one who noticed the signs. She'd jump at loud noises, if someone tried to touch her she'd recoil, her heart speeding up. Just the other day, Ron had clumsily grabbed her when she'd tripped on a step, and she'd jerked out of his grip frantically, preferring to fall than to be reminded of _his_ icy grip, his long fingers wrapping around her annoyingly fragile wrists. Of course, she'd always apologize immediately afterwards an incident, claiming the stress from the upcoming exams, and they always believed her. She didn't know whether to be relieved or upset.

She just wished none of this had ever happened.

She wished she had never met Draco Malfoy.

A small knock at the door brought her to her senses. She bolted up, not wanting Ginny to wake up, and hissed, "Who is it?" through the door.

"It's me," Harry spoke softly through the door. "Fancy a walk out in the garden?"

"Sure," Hermione replied, already wiggling into her clothing. "I'll meet you down in the kitchen in a minute."

She met him a short while later, tugging a knit cap over her curls, pulling it down snugly over her ears and forehead. Her jacket buttoned, scarf twined around her neck and snow boots on, she felt dreadfully warm, seeing as they were in the kitchen, but the blush in her cheeks suggested it had more to do with the way Harry was looking at her.

She cleared her throat quietly. "Morning," she forced herself to sound unaffected while willing away the pink in her cheeks.

"Morning," he smiled and gave her a light hug and a kiss on the cheek, and tugging his own hat on, he opened the back door and escorted her outside into the biting winter air. Though it was bitterly cold, Hermione gladly felt the last traces of sleep loosen their hold on her and felt her mind awaken. Harry was walking closely beside her, their shoulders brushed as they walked.

There was no need for conversation so early in the morning. The cold winds and the whispers of the tree branches were enough for the moment, and they walked on in silence, making sure not to pass the protective ward around the house. The snow on the ground was slippery, so it was no surprise when Hermione stepped badly and tumbled down into the snow with a sharp intake of breath.

Harry helped her up immediately; she gave a shaky laugh when he brushed a bit off snow off of her chin. Harry admired her flushed face, smiling gently. A glint of something shiny on the ground caught his eye, and he bent to pick it up.

It was a ring, he realized. Surely very expensive, by the large stones it boasted. The green and silver coloring caught him off guard, for it wasn't typical of Hermione to carry around large jewelry, especially if it was in Slytherin colors.

He stood up, and held it out in his palm.

Her eyes widened considerably, and he noted with worry how her face completely drained of color.

"Hermione? Is this yours?" he asked. Obviously it was, he thought, otherwise she wouldn't have it with her. But he felt he couldn't ask her what he really wanted to know. Like, for example, why, on the inside, was there engraved, ' _Property of DM_ '?

Harry only knew only person with those initials, and found himself praying to whatever Gods there were up above that this ring had nothing to do with him.


	13. The New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. The plot is my idea.

"Bombarda!" Nothing.

"Confringo!"

Her lungs were on fire; it was hard to breathe.

"Reducto!"

How long had she been at this? The moon was prominent in the winter sky, bathing her in its eerie glow.

" _Damn-!_ "

Angry tears clouded her eyes. Nothing was working. She sent a blast of white-hot fire at the object, but once it died down, the object was still there, gleaming at her smugly.

Frustrated beyond belief, she threw her wand to the ground. Her hands found their way into her hair and she gripped her head, crying.

The damned ring winked up at her from the frozen ground.

She'd been up for hours; having first made sure everyone else was asleep, and sneaking out, had cast a Silencio on the area around herself so they would not hear her outside.

She should have felt tired, but she felt anxious and wired instead, intent to destroy the ring. She had tried every spell she knew, but nothing worked. Not a strike blemish or imperfection had appeared on it despite her effort.

The ground was icy cold and hard on her knees but she knelt down anyway and looked at the ring.

Several days ago, Harry had found the ring, and asked her about it.

" _Hermione? Is this yours?" He had asked. The blood had drained from her face when she saw he was looking at the engraving on the inside. Property of DM._

_He looked slightly shocked and curious, staring intently at the green stone. And then she knew. She knew he was piecing the clues together._

_And she had to stop it._

_Swallowing to get past the cotton in her throat, she'd hastened to reply, conjuring a lie as quickly as she could._

" _I-It's my great grandmothers'." She blurted, forcing her face into a calm mask._

_Merlin knew she was a horrid liar, but for once, she prayed, let me get away with this one._

" _Her husband gave it to her before he died, and she passed it on to my mother before she died, who sent it to me." He was still staring at the engraving, and she felt bile rise in her throat._

_She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the ring._

" _Her name was Dorothy Maud, Harry," she finished._

_The suspicion and confusion left his eyes quickly, and he looked up at her solemnly._

" _Then why don't you wear it?" he asked quietly. He made to put the ring on her finger but she jerked back, eyes wide._

" _N-No!" the concerned look in his eyes intensified. Harry paused, looking alarmed. Mentally, she reprimanded herself._

_Straightening her composure, she'd laughed lightly and said, "Really, Harry. You know I'm not one to wear something as ostentatious as that. My mum sent it to me by owl this morning, but I don't quite know what to do with it." Shrugging, and thankful for the lie that had sprung up from nowhere, she'd taken the ring from him and slipped it back into her pocket._

_He stood there for a while, looking at her. She knew he knew that she wasn't telling him the truth, but her fear made her keep her face calm and controlled. After a few seconds, he nodded._

"I _'m sorry about your grandmother," he said solemnly. Hermione felt horrid about his sympathy for her non-existent relation, but found herself continuing the lie._

" _She died a few years ago," she mumbled, and took his hand. "Let's go back inside; I can see Mrs. Weasely in the kitchen. We should help."_

Things hadn't been exactly the same after that. Harry knew she was hiding something, but for the love of Merlin, she couldn't bring herself to tell him, and he couldn't bring himself to pressure her to tell him. Christmas had passed and today was New Year's Eve. Christmas with the Weaslets had been a jolly event. The twins had hidden Mrs. Weasley's old radio, and everyone had spent the day fooling around, playing with their presents from Fred and George, and breaking out into spectacularly, hilariously bad renditions of the Muggle Christmas songs Harry and Hermione taught them.

Though she was surrounded by people who loved her and whom she loved in return, she couldn't feel happy, because in one day they would go back to school and she would see him again, and she still didn't know what to do with the ring.

Wiping her frustrated tears, she straightened up and shoved the stupid thing back into her pocket.

* * *

Draco looked out on the school grounds from his balcony. The dismal winter scene failed to catch his attention; there was nothing to see anyway.

He strode out of his room and into the Common Room area, taking one sweeping look at the empty room. It seemed so lifeless without her.

Her scarf and some of her sweaters hung on the coat rack, beckoning him closer. He ignored their call and walked into her room instead, where her scent still lingered faintly.

The last time he had been here, he had slept with her in her bed. He smirked at the memory and looked through the things she had on her dresser. Several magical photographs caught his attention.

Each one had her with Potty and Weasel, bearing wide, silly grins. They stood crowded together, with their arms slung over each other's shoulders. One had been taken on the Hogwarts grounds; the school itself was in the background. The others were from a variety of different locations he didn't know about, but he could tell one had been taken at Weasley's house by the cluttered mess in the background. He snorted, and set them back down.

He ran his fingers over some dried sprigs of lavender that lay over a large stack of books, and caught sight of her pink hair ribbon which he slipped into his pocket. Taking his time, he walked over to her bed and sat down on it, noticing a decorated basket that lay beside it. Lips twitching with amusement, he opened it, and raised his brow when he saw the neat stack of knitting supplies and books.

Of course, she _would_ knit before going to sleep. He rolled his eyes, but his interest had been piqued. Draco eyed the books and plucked one out at random, flipping to the title page.

"Pride and Prejudice," he read aloud, flipping through its pages, and then moving on to the rest of the books. Some of them were so worn from frequent readings they were at risk of falling apart completely. Draco had an itching to mend them but refrained from doing so, as she would notice immediately.

* * *

Harry watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye as she spoke with Ron and George, smiling as they teased her about S.P.E.W. Cheeks flushed, she ranted indignantly about the importance of the House Elf Liberation Front, eyes sparkling, as the siblings listened with barely concealed boredom.

It was nearing midnight; they only had one minute until it was the New Year. Harry tapped on her shoulder lightly, and said, "Will you go outside with me for a bit?"

Hermione faltered in her speech, and looked at him, confused for a second or two. George and Ron hurriedly began talking about another topic.

"But what about everyone else?" she asked, unaware of the knowing smile Molly was giving her.

"Don't worry, dear, we're not going anywhere," she said kindly, winking at Harry, who blushed. "Go take a walk about the garden. But mind the wards!" she added seriously.

Hermione relented and got up, shrugging on her coat and hat. Harry followed suit, and they stepped into the still, frigid night air.

The stars shone beautifully up above them despite the frigid chill in the air. Icicles hung glistening and sharp from the roof. Harry could feel his feet turning numb inside his boots. He glanced at his watch-he had seconds left.

"Hermione," he began, and she turned to look at him.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, holding her hands gently.

Hermione stared wide-eyed at him, her mind having frozen. A slow grin worked itself onto her face, and all her worries flew out of her mind for that instant.

"Yes," she answered shyly. "I think I will."

Harry grinned at her, and brought his hand to her chin, drawing her closer. Hermione's breath hitched, and she watched, half afraid, half ecstatic as his face hovered closer. Suddenly impatient, she closed the gap between their lips just as the occupants inside the house cheered, quickly calling out 'Happy New Year's to hide the fact they had been watching from the kitchen windows. Hermione felt as though she were walking on a cloud, feeling his warm, soft lips pressed onto her own.

 _This_ _is what a kiss should be like_ , she decided as he cupped the back of her hea d with his other hand, deepening their kiss. _Not like that horrible ones_ _ **he**_ _forced on me._

She was so elated; she didn't feel the ring grow hotter in her pocket.

And somewhere, far away, a boy with shockingly blond hair awoke with a start, knowing what had just happened.


	14. Enjoy It While It Lasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. The plot is my idea.

 

Hermione looked uneasily around the corridor. Anxiety continued to creep up her spine and cloud her mind.

It was already the end of their first week back and so far there had been no sign of Malfoy. Her time table for the week showed she had no classes with the Slytherins and that helped, but she knew she had to stay on her guard. Wherever she went, she made sure she was never alone. She had refused to go back to the Head dorms, instead sending a House Elf to gather her things (and she still hated herself for it, for running away) and had parked herself into the empty bed beside Ginny's. The young redhead had been too happy to have her friend back to wonder why she would not go back to her own dorm.

Now, as they made their way into the dungeons, she couldn't stop the shivers that were rocking her body. It had been a week, why hadn't she gone to McGonagall yet? She'd promised Harry she would and yet she had done nothing. Why? The prospect of seeing Malfoy or McLaggen again made her sick; she felt a sense of shame she knew had no place inside her but still it remained, and the longer it stayed the less she wanted to confront the problem.

"You're shaking an awful lot. Are you sick?" Ron observed, turning to look at her.

Hermione couldn't bear to lie. "I'm not feeling so well, actually." She shuddered rather violently, and Harry tightened his grip around her, feeling her forehead.

"You're ice-cold," he said. "You can't go to class like this, Hermione. I'll take you to the Hospital Wing."

A light sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead, and she truly felt dreadful, but she shook her head determinedly.

"No, no. I'll be fine. We can go to Madam Pomfrey after our Potions lesson." She fought off a wave of nausea and strode into the classroom, sitting down at her shared desk with Harry. Ron sat with Neville in front of them.

Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, glaring at them as they entered as usual. Hermione extracted her books from her bag and set them down on the wooden surface, looking around the room. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. She felt a load come off her shoulders. Quite by accident, she ended up locking eyes with the Potions Professor.

Another tremor threatened to rock through her, but she stiffened her muscles in an attempt to not show weakness in the hateful man's eyes. That unsettling stare held her for a moment, and rather than glaring at her, he seemed to be studying her. A blush worked its way up her face and he rolled his eyes before settling them on her again. Hermione didn't dare blink.

That haggard face had an expression of utmost concentration and she stiffened once more, believing him to be attempting to delve into her mind. Feeling no unusual presence in her mind, however, she relaxed ever so slightly. He had not taken his eyes off her, his sunken, pale face remaining as stoic as it had ever been, but there was a change so slight she hardly noticed it until seconds later, when the eye contact had been broken.

She was perplexed. Had she just seen _pity_ in his face? It had only been a quick flash of emotion before he'd sneered and turned back to the board, but what did it mean? Clearly he knew something she didn't, and her brain ached just to think about it, overridden as it was.

As he gave his lecture, Professor Snape walked between the aisles of desks slowly, looking over each student as if daring them to fall asleep in front of him. Hermione could barely concentrate due to her pounding headache, but she would rather transfer to the Slytherin House than let a silly virus get the better of her. Harry glanced at her neat, perfect notes and looked at his own in dismay before shoving them into his bag as the bell rang. Hermione sighed, tucking her quill into her bag.

"Miss Granger, I'd like to speak with you for a moment." Professor Snape called out as the students filed out quickly from the dark room.

Harry and Ron turned to her, asking a question with their eyes.

"Go on to lunch," she whispered. "I'll meet you later." Ron nodded and went for the door, casting her a sympathetic glance. Harry squeezed her hand lightly and went off.

Hermione approached the Potions Professor warily, feeling like her eleven year old self as he fixed his eyes on her once more.

"You wanted to speak with me, Professor?"

He nodded and walked to his desk, sitting down in the old leather chair.

"Have you noticed anything strange happening as of late?" Although curt, his voice lacked its usual disdain, which surprised her and made her suspicious at once.

"No, Professor."

"No?" Clearly he didn't believe her. "Certain people have not been behaving...unusually?"

 _Could he know about Malfoy?_ Some part of her felt relieved at the thought that someone knew what was happening to her, and she wondered if she could trust in the man before her for help, but something inside her told her to keep quiet. Dumbledore might trust in Snape, but he was no friend to her, and she still had her suspicions regarding the Potions Professor. She narrowed her eyes at him instead.

"Is there someone you have in mind, Professor? I could talk to them."

"I don't think a mere talking to is going to make things any better," he said, and the hairs on Hermione's arms bristled.

"In that case, I'll do my best to keep an eye on things, Professor," she said as calmly as she could though calm was the last thing she felt. "If there's anything else you feel I should know?" she gave him a pointed look. She had no time for his foul moods and vague questions. That he got the hint was obvious, but apparently that day he felt like being as vague as possible, for his response was most unsatisfactory.

"I encourage you, Miss Granger, to stay alert and on your guard this coming Spring," he stated in a low, careful tone. "The changing of seasons always brings surprises; some may not be as pleasant as others."

Hermione was silent, unsure of how to respond. His unsettling, gleaming eyes stayed fixed onto hers, and Hermione found it difficult to look away. What was he trying to tell her?

 _Such a strange warning_. Could it be about Malfoy? Or something else?

Looking away at last, the Professor picked up his quill and waved a large, bony hand at her in dismissal.

"You may go."

Still frowning, Hermione picked up her bag and set off at a quick clip down the hall. She was not feeling any better, especially after that curious conversation. His words replayed in her head.

 _Spring_. Something was coming. Was it Voldemort? Would he dare come to Hogwarts again? She winced at a particularly painful dart of pain on the left side of her forehead. She was feeling worse than she had been earlier.

 _Maybe I should go and sleep this off_ , she thought wearily, loosening her tie. She set out for the Gryffindor tower, but a deafening racket greeted her just as she stepped over the threshold. A small group of lower years were shouting and pushing at each other, flinging hexes about in the otherwise empty common room. Luckily, everyone else was at lunch in the great hall, but the common room was a mess.

Hermione saw red. At the same moment she dropped her schoolbag to the floor, with the other arm she raised her wand and emitted a loud bang that shook the room. They stopped immediately, looking over to her with flushed, angry faces.

 _Just what I need,_ she thought sarcastically.

"Who started this?" she asked. They all began to talk at once, pointing fingers and shoving each other to face her. Another bang and the culprits stepped forward sheepishly.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I suppose someone insulted someone else and you all decided to have a Wizard's duel?" They nodded, muttering something about insults each had said to the other.

"Well you should be ashamed of yourselves. There is absolutely no dueling or fighting of any manner in the Common Room area or your dorms. Ten points from each of you. Has anyone been harmed?" They shook their heads. "Good. Detention for each of you for one week with Filch. Now please pick up this mess or I will be forced to call Professor McGonagall."

Their sullen, ashamed faces stayed in her mind as she climbed up the tower to the Girls' Dormitories. Lavender and Parvati smiled at her as she walked in, and resumed their chatter. Something about another Ravenclaw boy, apparently. She quickly changed into something more comfortable and climbed under her covers, drawing the curtains shut around her. She lay there for a moment, her eyes closed, listening to the murmur of her schoolmates' conversation, but that only contributed to her headache after a while so she cast Silencio on the curtains of her four poster and drifted into an uneasy sleep at last.

* * *

"I am merely curious as to your sudden… _interest_ with the girl."

Draco stood stiffly, his cold blue-grey eyes betraying no emotion.

"It is none of your business, Snape," he drawled. "I want her. That should be simple enough for you to understand."

The Prodessor regarded the young man in front of him before speaking again. "If you prevail in your mission, the Dark Lord will honor you more than any other in his confidence. You could have anything you wish for. You don't have to choose her. You will be allowed to join his ranks as his most trusted follower. You could have thrice your weight in gold, you could claim this very castle for our side if you so wish. Yet all you want is some simple school girl."

Draco tensed at the Professor's words. "She is not a simple schoolgirl, and you know it. I will succeed and I _will_ have her. But I will not join the Dark Lord. I will serve him, but only on my own terms."

Snape nodded slowly. "That seems wise. You must do well for him to agree to that. But what will you do with her once you have acquired her?"

Draco walked to the door. "I shall do with her as I see fit."

He exited the room, and headed for his dorm slowly, letting his mind run. Hermione had not come back to the Head Common Rooms after break, which infuriated him. Since that night he had woken with the image of Potter planting his lips on hers burning in his mind, he had waited for her return, his fury building with each day, wondering what she had done with the ring. Obviously she wasn't wearing it, seeing as he had tried calling her through his magic. She must have snuck into his room and gotten him to take it off.

_Clever little bird._

There was no sense in being angry. He'd been a fool to have let his guard down so quickly, but no matter. He'd learned his lesson and would not allow that to happen again.

_I'm going to make it so you can never run from me._

For now, though, he had the taller before him to go to the trouble of catching her again.

_But how?_

Wherever she went, he followed, hoping for a chance to catch her unawares. The only problem was that she surrounded herself with companions wherever she was so no matter where she was he could not strike. A clever move, and he admired her for it, but he was growing impatient. The Common Room was insufferable without her in it and he wanted her back, all for himself.

 _But she is determined to run_.

 _Let her_ , he thought, grinning suddenly _. Let her think she's got a chance. Let her think she's safe for now. Let her feel safe in Potter's arms before I rip her away._

He reached the Head Common Room and muttered the password quietly. "Persephone."

The portrait swung open and he stepped inside, growing angry again at knowing she was not there. He hated how barren it was in here without her. It was too quiet, and strangely, too dark, but it would not remain that way for long, he assured himself, and smiling, he shut himself into his room.

* * *

"I never did ask you what happened at your meeting with Dumbledore," Hermione said softly, leaning into Harry's shoulder.

They were outside, tucked away in the skywalk, watching the students mill about on the school grounds below them. As they breathed, their breaths puffed out from between their lips. They had reached February, the cold seeped everywhere it's ghostly hands could reach while Spring's promise grew sweeter every day.

Though Snape's warning still hounded her mind frequently, Hermione was calmer than she had been in a long time. These moments with Harry helped to chase her troubles away. Malfoy was subdued and distant these days, ignoring her when she was around, but during meal times and class she would catch him watching her. It was awful-his stares just about challenged her to tell on him, knowing she couldn't.

Luckily, that was the extent of his harassment since they had come back, so as long as he wasn't attacking her or forcing more cursed jewelry onto her, so she could not complain. It would be foolish of her to think that perhaps he'd forgotten, and his constant stares disproved her hopeful notion that his attentions towards her had completely ceased.

Harry shrugged his free shoulder. "I told him about the dream, and he said it would be best not to ignore it. Do you think it has anything to do with what Snape told you?" She frowned slightly, biting her lip.

"I believe so. I hope it's all a farce and nothing happens," she admitted quietly. "But then we would never be prepared, would we?"

Harry nodded, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Whatever comes, we'll deal with it," he promised. Hermione tilted her head up and shifted so she could lean in and kiss him soundly. His lips pressed into hers and she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. The warmth of his lips bled into hers and she felt a tingling start inside her, shooing the cold out of her body as he fingered her curls, and licked at her lush lower lip. Hermione, not being knowledgeable in the art of kissing, was finding it rather hard to breathe.

"Well isn't this a pretty sight?" a cold, mocking voice startled them. "If only I'd brought a camera."

Blushing furiously, Hermione jumped up and saw, to her dismay, Malfoy standing behind them, face twisted in contempt.

Harry stood up, keeping his arm around Hermione. "Sod off, Malfoy."

The Slytherin only smirked. "Ten points from Gyffindor for insulting Head Boy. Thirty points each for that disgusting display of affection in public."

Hermione was seething. Couldn't he just leave her alone? "You're docking unnecessary points. We're not breaking any rules and we're not around to shock anyone except you, who just _happened_ to show up at this exact spot."

Draco looked at his little lioness, blushing with anger and embarrassment at having been caught. If it weren't for Bloody Saint Potter standing there with _his damned hand_ on her waist, he would have thrown her to the ground and taken her every way he knew how.

But now was not the time. There were more pressing matters at hand. Though he would have loved to continue their little argument, he had run out of patience at last. He'd never been one to wait, especially not where she was concerned.

Still, the pair stood close together, joined at the hip, and the anger that it caused in him sparked forward a new idea.

"McGonagall needs to speak with us, Granger," he drawled, inspecting his sleeves.

She paled. Harry pulled her to him and gave her a lingering kiss.

"I have to go to Quidditch practice anyway," he said, "I'll see you at dinner?" Hermione nodded, and watched him leave as the Slytherin crept up behind her.

"So you and Potter are an item now?" he hissed into her ear, making her jump. She inched backwards, glaring at him.

"It is none of your business," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "I do believe it is, Granger. Or by chance did you forget our little encounter before the holiday?"

"I don't think anyone could forget something as horrible as that."

"Where's the ring?" he demanded.

She raised her chin defiantly. "I took it off."

"I can see that." He gave her a withering glare. "Where is it?"

She laughed. "Right, like I would tell you."

He fingered his wand, smirking. "You don't have to, pet. But I can make you."

She drew out her wand, aiming at his face. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would, and I will if you continue to ignore my question. Where is it?"

She didn't answer. He raised his wand. "Imperio!"

"Protego!" she cried at the same moment, and her shield enveloped her just in time to deflect his curse.

"Nicely done, but I am losing my patience. Do try and comply?"

"I'd rather die than let you enslave me," she spat, eyes blazing. He only chuckled.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing you have no say in the matter. Expelliarmus!" She dodged it easily, sending a Stupefy right back. It barely grazed his forearm.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. I mean it, stay away from me," she warned.

"That's a tall order, love," he advanced and she raised her shield again so he could not get any closer.

His eyes roved over her, drinking in their fill. She flushed, not liking the dark intensity in his normally clear eyes. She could feel his magic prodding at her shield, trying to get through.

"What did McGonagall want?" she asked, hoping it would deter him.

To her luck, he stopped. "Nothing. She was only curious as to why you aren't back in the Head dorms."

Hermione stiffened. "I'm not going back. Not in a million years."

He tilted his head, raised his eyebrows, grinning. "Not even for me?"

She shuddered, "I refuse to be in the same living quarters as you."

"Well you're going to have to suck it up and live with it, Granger. McGonagall says you have to, that way it's easier to inform us of going-ons around the school and our duties at the same time. Plus," he added in a husky tone, "I've been feeling a little lonely." He leered at her.

"You're vile," she hissed.

"Hush, Granger. You're going to have to return to the Head dorms whether you like it or not. That's all I needed to tell you." He closed the distance between them quickly; she was too startled at him having gotten through her shield while she'd been distracted to move.

He made no move to touch her. She didn't dare move lest he try something. He leaned in ever so slightly, and she leaned well away from him.

"Enjoy your time with Potter while it lasts, love."

She looked up at him, angry and suspicious.

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy?" she called out after him as he walked away.

"I'll see you tonight," he replied smugly, completely ignoring her question.

* * *

"You're in an awfully good mood lately," Blaise remarked as his companion tucked into his roast chicken.

Draco couldn't help but grin. "Things are looking up. The time is drawing near."

Blaise's eyes widened for a second and then his face returned to its usual neutral expression.

"What was Snape talking to you about earlier?"

Draco took a sip from his goblet, watching the witch sitting one table away, immersed in a conversation with Longbottom, who was gesturing animatedly to a book he was reading. His oddball companion, (Lovegood, was it?) was gazing around the Great Hall with wide, glassy orbs. It took him a second to realize she had caught him staring at Granger and she frowned slightly before he looked away at last.

"He was concerned about my interest in Granger," he said nonchalantly as he returned to his food.

"Now that's something," Blaise chuckled, "Snape showing concern for someone other than himself."

Nodding, Draco watched as the Head Girl departed from the Gryffindor table, calling out a cheery 'Goodnight!' and walking out the Hall, shouldering her school bag.

"I should go," Draco said, and pushed away from the table, leaving as swiftly as he could so he would not draw attention to himself.

He took his time, walking a bit of a distance behind her as she made her way to their dorms. It had been a long time since he'd had her all to himself, excluding their rendez-vous in the bridge. She finally noticed him as she turned a corner and his movement caught her eye.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded, walking faster.

"Seeing as we're heading to the same location, Granger, it's quite obvious," he stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and walked alongside the frustrated witch, who was doing her best to outstrip him. Draco had no trouble keeping pace with her, but at length she stopped abruptly to face him.

"I'm only going back on the condition you never harass me again. No touching ever, nothing inappropriate. Not even one bawdy joke, you hear me? You make one wrong move and I'll make sure you regret it."

She held out her hand. "Have we got a deal?"

"Not bloody likely," Draco snapped angrily. "I don't get any say? What's in it for me?"

Hermione fingered her wand. "If you keep to the agreement you get to keep your bits."

A harsh laugh escaped him and he resumed walking. She caught up to him quickly.

"I mean it, Malfoy," she hissed. "I'm asking you to respect me as a person and to treat me as such. If you can't agree these terms then I-I'm going to the Headmaster!"

 _No, you won't,_ Draco thought. _I won't allow it._

Out loud, he said, "Don't fuss, Granger. We'll work something out."

That pacified her a little, thankfully, and she kept silent after that. When they reached the portrait it dawned on her that she did not know the new password.

Stepping aside, she glared at him. "After you."

He stepped forward, smirking. "My, how polite," he laughed, and said the password clearly for her to hear and remember.

"Persephone." The entrance opened and he stepped inside, catching her wrist as she tried to walk past him to her own room.

The tip of her wand pressed into his jaw, and he loosened his hold on her but did not let her go.

Stepping closer, he pressed his body into hers, locking their gazes together. Fear and hate were visible in her eyes, but her jaw was set and she did not back away, only digging her wand further into his flesh.

"Get. Away. From. Me," she snarled quietly, and just that tone of her voice sent his blood running down to his groin.

"Or what, love? You'll hex me? Kill me?" he taunted.

She seemed to relish the thought, but he knew better.

"I don't think you have it in you," he said, and a split second later he hurtled into their shared table with the force of her spell. Standing back up quickly, he grit his teeth, his spine burning in pain.

"I told you not to touch me," she said as she stepped closer, twirling her wand in her nimble fingers. "Care to repeat your comment?"

Wiping a spot of blood from his lip, Draco sat up, grinning, letting his forearm rest on his knee.

"I said, I don't think you have it in you. What's more, I don't think you ever will. You're clever, I'll give you that. But you hide behind your book smarts. Is there anything else you can do, other than recite every chapter of the latest book you've read?"

He watched her falter for a split second before she advanced again, immobilizing him with a wave of her wand.

"I'm not _just_ clever," she hissed, stepping towards him. "There's _plenty_ I can do, and it's certainly more than you ever will."

Draco grinned at her. "Where's the ring?" he demanded, catching her off guard.

Her hand automatically twitched towards the clasp on her robes and he smirked.

"I buried it," she lied smoothly.

"Don't lie to me, love. Either you tell me now and I'll play nice or I make you tell me."

She snorted. "As if I'd listen to you. Who's the one on the floor, here?"

Quickly, he disarmed her with a non-verbal jinx, and her wand flew across the room. Once her immobilizing spell fell away he seized her before she could scream.

"I," he grasped her wrists in one hand, "am stronger than you think."

She tried to tear herself out of his grip, but he wasn't having it. He twisted her arm behind her back, making her cry out in pain.

"This could have been easier, little bird," he said, and forced the struggling girl into his room, locking the door behind them.

This couldn't be happening. She had had the upper hand a few seconds ago and now here she was inside Draco Malfoy's room. Instinct screamed at her to run, to fight, to _get out of there before something happened._ She forced the image of that something out of her mind, but it didn't help that there was something else prodding her bum as he pressed into her from behind.

He released her and she flew to the door, crying out when the doorknob would not budge.

"Let me out, Malfoy! Let me out this instant!"

She heard him coming and made to run to the other side of the room but it was too late, he'd cornered her into the door.

"Don't you dare come any closer!" she said fiercely, holding her arms out, her shaking palms open and shielding her from him. "You promised!"

"No, Granger, I didn't. I said we would work something out."

She lowered her hands slightly, and looked at him with angry, questioning eyes. "Well?"

He raised his wand and said, "Imperio."

 _No, no, no,_ her mind screamed even as the pleasant waves washed over her, warm and intoxicating. Her mind was numb and she found herself looking into the eyes of the man she hated most as though she were held inside a cage in her own body.

"Give me the ring," he ordered. "I know you have it on you."

 _Don't do it! Don't don't don't_! she screamed at herself, watching in horror as her own body disobeyed her pleas and she reached into the secret pocket she had sewn into her robes, drawing out the hated ornament, and placed it into his palm.

He watched her inner struggle with amusement, and tucked the ring into his own pocket. Noticing the look of immense relief on her face, he said, "Now, now, Granger. You _will_ wear the ring eventually. I find it was a little forward of me to make you wear it in so public a place where it could draw unwanted attention. I'd rather not have my plans ruined before they've even begun."

The spell allowed her to frown. _What plans?_ she was thinking. _Whatever they are, I hope no part of them is successful._ She wanted to ask aloud but the spell kept her lips shut tight.

Ring forgotten, he went to his bed, taking off his shoes and socks and robes. Taking off his tie, he slung it over the bedside table.

Helpless, she stood there waiting, still under his control, praying his next command would be for her to leave.

"Come to me," he purred, and she fought the urge to obey, even as she took the necessary steps forward to stand in front of him as he stood, settling his hands on her arms and ran them down slowly to her hips.

"You will sleep with me tonight," he announced slyly. Beneath his hands, her body began to tremble.

He slid her robe off her shoulders slowly, and took off her jumper and tie, ordered her to slip off her shoes. Once she'd placed her mary-janes beside his bed, she stood, stoic, betraying the panic she truly felt within. He leaned down and kissed her, tracing her lips with his tongue.

Hermione wanted to vomit. Was he going to rape her? She fought against his Imperius, struggling to regain control over herself as his lips took over hers.

"Respond to me," he growled, and she snapped.

"N-No!" she stammered from underneath his lips, turning her face away, hands raised and poised to shove.

Moving quickly, Draco caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and applied enough pressure to make tears form in her wide eyes. He exerted more control in his Imperius, enough to quiet her and make her fling her arms around his neck rather robotically and kiss him back.

A groan escaped him and he slid his tongue past her lips-his hand wound around her neck. She moaned into his mouth and the sound went straight to his cock. His hands traveled down to her bottom, grasping underneath her skirt. Hermione let out a cry into his mouth, even as she pushed her hips into his hand, and he felt the first of her tears smear against his cheek.

She tried to fight off the spell desperately, but each time he felt her about to break the surface he pushed her back down, tightening his hold on her.

Somehow they ended up on the bed, a tangle of limbs and hair. He flipped her over so she was straddling him, her curls falling down like curtains over them. Though she was kissing him, he felt her tears dripping onto him and he frowned, knowing she was thinking of Potter. Angrily, he trapped her underneath him again, grinding his erection into her flesh. Her skirt had ridden up in the rush of movement and he caught a glimpse of her cherry-red knickers.

"Stay still," he whispered. She whimpered, clutching at his sleeves and drawing him closer.

Gods, he was _so_ hard, but he wouldn't take her now. The timing wasn't right. He had a different idea, though. Unzipping his trousers, he drew his erection out. It seemed he must have lost a little control on the Imperio there, because she began to sob in earnest, squeezing her eyes shut and tried to push him away. Her legs clamped together and she recoiled from him, trying to smooth down her skirt.

"I'm not going to take you now, darling," he murmured into her ear. "Not yet…" he took her hand and placed it on his cock. She didn't try to fight again, his increased force on the spell had her docile as a lamb. For all his effort it seemed something was still missing-her eyes were mutinous. She glared daggers up at him and he wrapped her delicate fingers around his throbbing cock, moaning in pleasure. A great shudder ripped through him and he bent down to claim her lips again. His hand tightened over hers as she continued stroking it up and down; he arched his back and bit into her shoulder hard enough to draw a bead of blood. She gave a small shriek, but he continued to guide her hand in pumping his penis to completion. By now she wasn't even looking at him, her head had turned to the side and she was crying into his pillow.

"Look at me, Granger," he hissed. Reluctant, but still under the influence of his spell she faced him, brown eyes full of hate as she stroked him. He made her move her hand faster, the pleasure built and his back arched, felt himself tighten and he came hard, his cum stained her shirt and the skin on her neck.

He ended the spell then, and in his post-orgasmic state, didn't see her palm streaking towards his face in time enough to stop it.

The cracking sound of flesh striking flesh filled the room for that instant, and he stilled before he let himself collapse on top of the witch. He rolled off her and she sat up immediately, crying, wiping at her clothing and her hand with his bed sheets frantically. He tucked himself back into his trousers as he watched her before muttering a Scourgify and his mess disappeared. Just as she began to escape from the bed he shot a hand out and brought her to him as she thrashed around in an attempt to free herself.

"Either you stay still and be a good girl or I Imperius you again and I make you do worse than what we just did."

She clawed at his hands, which were settled around her waist. "' _We_ ' didn't do anything! That was all you, Malfoy, you disgusting, barbarian imbecile!" Her elbow slammed into his diaphragm hard and Draco hissed in fury. With a hard yank he pulled her to him.

"You've got yourself a death wish, haven't you, Mudblood? You're just asking for me to Imperius you again so you can be willing and ready when I fuck you, is that right?"

"The only thing I'm asking for is for you to let me go and leave me alone," she spat, shoving at his chest. "Or die, that would be infinitely better."

"You're in no position to ask such a thing, Granger. It seems you still haven't learned your lesson," he mused as he played with a lock of her hair.

She grit her teeth. "What lesson?" Draco caught her arm before her elbow could slam into his sternum again.

"The one about insulting your superiors. That's about the fifth time you slap me, am I correct? It doesn't really matter, because you'll pay for that," he warned, pulling her into his chest. She struggled to free herself, but she was tired, both mentally and physically from what had just taken place. Tears coursed down her face as Draco held onto her tighter, preventing escape.

"I don't want to sleep with you," she said shakily, "Please, Malfoy."

"Go to sleep," he murmured, and drifted off into a content slumber as the witch cried in his arms.

* * *

When he awoke the first thing he did was look to his right, where she was still asleep. Her face was pale and had some of her hairs sticking to it due to the vast amount of tears she had shed the night before. He shifted and reached out to stroke her face gently, tracing her lips with his finger tips.

After a moment, she sighed and muttered, "Harry," in her sleep.

He froze and his hand went to her neck, squeezing painfully. Instantly her eyes flew open and she tried to scream. He could pinpoint the exact moment her dreams were replaced with the apparently terrifying realization of his presence before he clamped his lips over hers possessively. Hysterical, the girl beat her fists against his chest, finally pushing him away with all the strength she could muster.

Perhaps it was only due to the shadow from the curtains around his bed but when she looked at him his eyes were dark and charcoal-colored instead of the normal icy blue. Filled with terror, Hermione instantly maneuvered herself to slide off the bed from underneath him. His hand pressed hard into her stomach before she could go too far.

"I forbid you from ever saying his name in my presence," he snarled. Her hands clawed at his, still tight around her neck. Hermione bucked underneath him as she gasped for air, but said nothing. He released her and she subsided, coughing into the mattress.

"I hate you," she rasped, finding his eyes and sent him all the anger she felt towards him in that one look.

"It won't do for the future Mrs. Malfoy to despise her husband, now, would it?" Draco laughed at the incredulous expression on her face.

"Why does that surprise you? Did you think the ring meant nothing?"

Hermione flew off the bed, fists clenched. "Absolutely not. I would rather marry Cormac McLaggen instead of you. A hippogriff, even."

Draco watched her through hooded eyes.

"Speaking of your attacker, Granger, have you heard of him lately?"

She looked at him for a moment, narrowing her eyes. "He was expelled. His parents took him home."

He cocked his head. "I heard he disappeared after Christmas. His poor parents are frantic with worry."

Horror dawned over her. "What did you do?"

He raised his brows. "Me? I've done nothing. I only just heard about it and wondered if you knew."

"I don't believe you." She found her robe and pulled it on hastily, clutching it around herself.

"That's fair." He raised his wand once more, and she recoiled. "Imperio."

He approached her, handing her back her shoes and tie, which she held under her arm. He took a moment to run his hand through her hair softly, settling it back down from its sleep-induced wildness.

"You will move back into our dorm without raising a fuss. You will not speak to anyone of what happened here last night, or this morning. You will not tell anyone the information I have revealed to you, or what has happened between us these past months. Not Potter, not Weasely, Longbottom, or anyone else. Understood?"

"Understood." Her lips raised in a snarl.

 _Irresistible_ , he thought, and while she remained under control of his spell he leaned in close, cupping her face between his palms, and placed a kiss on her jaw. Another on the hollow of her throat. One more on her clothed breast, and the last on her dry, trembling lips.

"Go get some sleep, sweetling," he murmured, "and be sure to dream of me."

He ushered her out of his room, and just before he closed the door, he taunted, "Remember to think of me while you're snogging Potter!"

Hermione walked to her room, undressed and lay on her bed, wanting nothing more than to cry or scream but her mind was oddly blank; perhaps because of the spell. It was still dark out, but she knew the sun would rise soon. It was the weekend anyway, so she huddled into a ball on her bed and slept through a maze of nightmares, each one worse than the last, but all revolving around a certain ocean-eyed Slytherin who it seemed was bent upon ruining her life.


	15. Lucius Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. The plot is my idea.

Draco wandered around the Common Room, pausing every now and then to glance at the fireplace. Try and try as he might he simply couldn't keep his mind off her; his little enchantress. Ever since the night of the forced wank he had hardly seen her around. But he didn't worry; he knew she was with her little comrades. The Golden Trio had been absent from every meal most of the week; he'd heard from some loud-mouthed Gryffindor that they'd been eating in the Gryffindor Tower instead.

His father was due for a visit. They'd found a way around Floo Network barriers that would ordinarily have prevented him from coming, and had arranged a meeting of sorts. It was lucky for him that Hermione was rarely in their Head quarters anymore, as she certainly would have informed on him. Even now he still posed a great risk, hosting his father here regardless of the meeting lasting a couple of minutes.

 _He could have just sent me a letter_.

Draco was unsure as to why he would even bother taking all the trouble to come here. To be sure, he had a strong suspicion for his father's motive, and was quite confident he would be correct. But only time would tell if he was.

So he waited there, looking out the window at the school grounds, where the grass was quickly regaining its color and the trees were budding again. A light, steady rain had been falling since the afternoon. The sky was as cloudy as ever, hardly any sunlight could permeate the thick layers of clouds. Down below other students milled about below him in the bleak light of their sunset, shielded from the rain from their own charms; he searched in vain for her among the sea of greens and mud.

A soft _wooshing_ sound drew his attention, but he did not turn around as his father stepped out from the fireplace.

"Draco."

"Father."

He turned at last, and saw his father for the first time since the previous summer.

The strains of the nearing war and his role in it were taking their tolls on him. An excessively handsome man, Lucius Malfoy stood proudly at nearly six feet. His form was lean and sturdy, his cold, piercing blue eyes and long white hair likened him to the albino peacocks he kept on grounds where he lived. The infamous snake-head cane for which he was known was held imperiously at his side, as always.

Ink black robes accentuated his broad shoulders and chest, drawing attention to his pale face. New age lines had appeared by his eyes and forehead, but knowing his father to be a vain man, Draco said nothing. He recalled the days before Voldemort's return, when his family had been at an almost normal state, when his mother would proudly tell him he had gotten most of his beauty from his father. Though his mother was exquisite as well, Draco reckoned the only things he had inherited from her were his nose and his lips. He himself stood at an impressive six feet, an inch or two taller than his father.

But Voldemort had returned, and his family had drawn into itself with fear. His mother's smiles were gone or forced, and his father remained as stony and dark as ever, so unlike the days when Draco had been a toddler, when his father had had a rich, booming laugh and a wide smile; a jovial man who had been exposed to the cruelty and corruption but had not yet succumbed to it.

Lucius took a look around the common room, taking in the half-hearted décor rather indifferently, his lips twitching once he saw the Gryffindor banner Hermione had hung up along the wall.

"You're well," he stated.

"Always, Father."

"Your mother sends her regards, although she did not want me to come."

Draco nodded.

"The mission?" Lucius asked.

"Going smoothly. It is planned to take place in a week or two. I haven't worked out the particulars yet."

His father did not reply, only looked around the room as a silence wrapped around them.

"How is mother?" Draco asked. "Is she recovered?"

Lucius shook his head, not meeting his son's eye. Draco's heart sank into his feet, he felt his insides twist.

"The Healers say there is nothing they can do for her," Lucius said quietly. "They've tried a vast amount of potions and spells, we've gone through a number of Healers and Medi Witches and Wizards, but nothing is working. She wants to see you as soon as you've finished here."

"I will get this over with quickly then," Draco said.

Lucius nodded, looking once more around the room, his eyes lingering on the door that led to Hermione's rooms.

"Remind me who the Head Girl is again?"

 _You know who it is,_ Draco thought snidely.

"Hermione Granger," he answered.

Lucius toyed with his cane; his eyes locked onto his sons'.

"Ah yes, the know-it-all? The one we discussed in your First Year?"

"Yes, Father."

The head Malfoy looked around. "I'd been hoping to get a glimpse of her."

 _Aha,_ Draco thought triumphantly. _This is why he came._

"How is she now?"

"Well."

" _Just_ well?"

"And not here."

"Ah, a pity."

Draco lowered his voice, "I intend to bring her along with me when I complete my task."

"So I have heard." Lucius sounded pleased. "She has agreed to this? I doubt it."

"She doesn't know it yet," Draco said dissmissively. "She loathes me but I've made my feelings known to her. I intend to marry her, Father."

He kept his eyes trained on the older man, expecting him to fly off in a rage. But what happened next he did not expect.

Lucius looked pensive. "I don't see why not. I don't think the Dark Lord would begrudge you that. She must really be something, then," he finished somewhat amusedly.

Draco blinked. "You don't care that she's Muggleborn?"

Lucius tutted. "The Dark Lord has changed his stance on blood purity of late. He says it would be a waste to kill anyone with magical blood, Muggleborn or not. He says the true abominations are the Muggles. It is high time we show them who is more powerful, it is time for us to come out of hiding. Why must we hide, if we are stronger?" He smirked at his son, who looked quite surprised.

"If you like her that much, I don't see why I should oppose it. From what I've heard, she would be a valuable addition to our family."

At Draco's expression of surprise, he smiled.

"You expected me to be angry."

"Of course. I've seen her blood," Draco said. "It is the same as ours. I was shocked to see it."

His father assessed him carefully. "Would you still marry her if you'd never known?"

Draco frowned. "Yes."

The door swung open and the subject of their conversation entered the common room. Head held downwards, she placed her schoolbag on the floor by the coat rack and moved quickly towards her room, so quickly that she did not notice them there.

As she walked by, however, his father cleared his throat and Draco called out, "Not going to say hello, Granger?" making her jump. At once she drew her wand, looked up and her eyes widened when she saw who was sitting before her.

"What are you doing here?"

Draco stepped towards her and she aimed at him, glaring.

"Stay away from me," she hissed.

"Relax, Granger, it's just a little family visit."

"How did _he_ even get in here? He's not allowed inside Hogwarts!" she exclaimed as Lucius stood up, advancing towards her.

"Don't you dare take one step closer!" she warned, backing quickly towards the door. "If you don't leave _now_ I will tell Dumbledore," she said as she reached for the doorknob but found nothing.

Turning around quickly, she saw it had been removed from the door. She gave the door a push but it would not budge. Bile began to creep up her throat.

"I would like to speak with you before you leave," called out the cold, regal voice of Lucius Malfoy. She saw he was holding the doorknob in his gloved hand.

"How-" she began, but he extracted his wand from the cane and silenced her quickly.

Draco stood by and watched, smirking.

"I've forgotten how you little Gryffindors tend to overreact," Lucius remarked loftily as he came to stand before her. "It's merely one of the many reasons I never bothered with them."

Maintaining her icy glare, she still held her wand aloft.

Pointing her own wand at her throat, she ended the spell and said, "I've not forgotten that you're a Death Eater. You and your son. Let me out this instant or-"

He'd silenced her again.

Before she could remove the spell he'd summoned her wand from her hand and tucked it into his pocket.

"I am not here to harm you, Miss Granger. I only came to visit my son and to see the famous Hermione Granger, of whom I heard so much about."

She coloured and narrowed her eyes at him. Lucius chuckled. Waving his hand over his shoulder, he motioned to his son.

"Give us a moment, Draco. I wish to speak to her alone."

Draco frowned but went into his room obediently. His father cast a Silencio on the door to prevent him from eavesdropping.

Hermione was rooted to the ground with fear. Was he going to kill her? She tried to edge backwards. His hand shot out and gripped her chin, making the witch gasp inaudibly.

Her skin felt smooth and rather hot under his touch. The lightest sheen of perspiration veiled her forehead, her eyes looked a little fevered. Tilting her head up, he forced her to look him in the eye. To hide the fact that she was shaking she tore out of his hold and moved away. He only followed her, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I am aware that I am a Death Eater, Miss Granger, I do not deny it. But I will not have you making false accusations about my son." She looked confused but he chose not to elaborate. Draco would tell her in time.

"You certainly have grown, Miss Granger. Quite the lovely swan now aren't you?" His hand came up to brush her cheek and she recoiled. He noticed she looked rather peaky, as though she were going to be sick. Lucius retracted his hand calmly. The girl had gone and got herself sick, did Draco know? The first time he had seen her she had been no higher than his waist, and now here she stood, almost a woman full grown. The change was very becoming on her.

"I can see why my son is so taken with you," he said calmly, and he watched her jaw drop again. "I hope he will treat you well."

'What are you talking about?' she asked, but she' was still mute. Her eyes were a little panicked, knowing there was something hugely important he wasn't telling her.

She really did have no idea. Lucius felt a rush of pity for the girl.

"It was good to see you, my dear. I believe I will have the pleasure again," he said, giving her a cryptic smile. Taking one of her hands, he kissed its back lightly before walking away to Draco's door.

"Ah." He turned back to her. "I would recommend not telling anyone about this visit. My son will make sure of it."

He opened the door and summoned Draco, who was rifling through an old volume from his bookshelf. They walked back into the living room, to the fireplace, where the furious Head Girl stood with her hands at her hips.

'Give me my wand,' she mouthed, apparently still under Lucius' Silencio. Draco laughed. Lucius withdrew her wand from his robes and handed it back slowly. The witch snatched it away and pointed it towards them. Draco tensed, ready for a duel but his father merely smiled.

"Put it away, dear girl, and you will not be hurt. Do you honestly think you can win against us?"

"Do you want to find out?" she challenged.

"Put the wand away, Granger," Draco called, fingering his own just in case. "Put it away and we won't hurt you."

He could see her hackles rise, and he understood why. She detested being spoken to like a child.

_Well if she didn't insist on acting like one..._

Without another word the girl gave them a venomous look and stalked into her room, slamming the door behind her.

"She will not be easy to manage," the elder Malfoy remarked drily.

"It just makes me want her more."

Lucius clapped his hand over his son's shoulder. "Be careful, son. Bring honor onto the Malfoy name."

"I will, Father. Tell Mother I will come home soon."

Lucius stepped into the green fire and disappeared with another _woosh_. Feeling much better than he had before, Draco shrugged off his jumper and walked over to Hermione's door, he tapped on the wood.

"Granger, let me in."

He heard a muffled noise from the other side of the door.

"What makes you think I'd _ever_ let you in?" was her shrewd reply.

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the panel. "Let me in or come out. We're scheduled to patrol tonight."

A huff through the door. "I'm not going anywhere with you. _Especially_ not the dungeons. Besides, I'm not feeling well. Go with someone else."

"Not feeling well? What, has a little cold sucked the life out of the know-it-all?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy. I am not going. And it's not a cold, I've got the flu. If you don't leave now I'll gladly vomit on you."

He heard shuffling steps grow fainter as she walked away, most likely to her bed.

He grinned and stayed in his position, leaning against the door.

"I know you're still there," she called out angrily. Her voice was muffled through the door. "Leave or I'll hex you."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your beau, is it?" he said with mock outrage.

The door flew open in seconds.

Enraged, she pointed her wand at him. "You are _not_ my beau."

In all her distracted fury, he promptly pushed past her and entered her room. She followed him, sputtering, tugging on his sleeves in a pitiful attempt to drag him back out.

"Get out of my room!" she tried to yell, but her voice was scratchy and nearly gone. She tried to disarm him but he avoided it all too easily.

"Come on, Granger, it's not like I haven't been in here before," he laughed. She made to reply but stopped short, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"You've broken into my room?" she whispered, "But-"

"Your wards? Oh, love; I've been raised by Dark Wizards. I know all sorts of spells and enchantments to get through _those_."

Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. Her face was white and drawn; she looked exhausted and faint. Draco reached for her but she sent him a Stunner instead, which he just barely dodged.

"Get out. Now," she hissed, pointing towards the door. "Before I make you."

He ignored her, choosing instead to sit in her armchair, resting his arms on the rests and leaning back as though he were the owner of the room instead of she, which infuriated her.

"I was hoping that after that lovely night we spent in _my_ room, you would have softened a bit. Apparently I was wrong," he remarked as she clenched her fists.

"You forced me to," she rasped. "You _made_ me touch you! It was anything but lovely!" He thought he saw a glimmer of a tear making its way down her face.

"Fine then, it was enjoyable for only one of us," he smirked. "Lie down on your bed for me, darling. I'll return the favor."

At the same time she began to respond with a curse her stomach heaved so she clapped her hand to her mouth and dashed to her bathroom, making it just in time to the toilet to expel the contents of her stomach rather violently. Spots dotted her vision, she closed her eyes and willed them all away-her head felt too light. Sweat dripped down her forehead and she heaved repeatedly until it was all gone. In her sickness, she had failed to notice the young man who had knelt behind her and caught her loose, flowing curls in his hands, pulling them to the back of her neck while rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Hermione coughed, spitting into the toilet before flushing it and wiping her mouth.

A glass of water appeared at her side and she sucked it down, forgoing the stray droplets that made their way down her dry lips, past her chin and down the pale skin of her throat, beyond her nightgown.

With hungry eyes he watched those droplets and licked his lips, his hands tightened around her.

The touch startled her and she jumped when she found him still there. She puahed his hands from herself, standing hastily and rinsed out her mouth, brushed her teeth at the sink quickly, before looking down at him, who sat there, watching her silently.

"I would say thank you if you were anybody else," she said. "You don't deserve it. Now leave." She stepped past him, out of the bathroom and to her bed.

Hermione snatched a change of pyjamas and hugged it to herself. Malfoy left her bathroom as she pulled the tucked sheets back from the bed. Her head was roaring, she thought she heard her bedroom door close, and satisfied she fled to the loo to change and emerged feeling worse. She locked her door quickly, turned off The light and climbed into her bed, head pounding. She was raging with a high fever. Laying her head on the blessedly cold pillow, she pulled her blankets around her, shivering. The fire roared to life in the mantle but she hardly noticed.

 _I could fry an egg on my forehead right now, and yet I'm still freezing,_ she thought. _I should have stayed in the Gryffindor Tower tonight_.

Her dreams were fuzzy and didn't make much sense. Everything was too bright, even though the lights were off, the silence was roaring around her. Someone was there with her; placing a cold hand on her skin, making soft, comforting noises.

"Harry?" she asked groggily. How had he come in?

The hand was on her lips, quieting her, and she complied. Her throat was dry and it hurt to speak. Her thin blankets were not enough; she shivered violently and her teeth chattered. Her hair was sticking to her face from all the sweating she was doing; she was mortified that Harry should be seeing her like this.

The figure at her bed seemed to hesitate before quickly ridding himself of most of his clothing and crawling up onto her bed. He settled beside her, and she feebly shied away, not used to such intimacy. Strong arms reached out and wrapped themselves around her waist, drawing her extremely close so she was tucked into him. Had she been in her right mind, she would have blushed, but she was so cold and so delirious she pressed herself closer to him, unaware of his body's response poking into her side.

Draco looked down at her, his face devoid of expression. Her pale, sweaty face was endearing to him. Though she wasn't exactly pleasant-smelling or looking at the moment, he was absolutely certain she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her hands unconsciously made their way to wind around his neck and he leaned closer, holding the back of her head softly, possessively, to his chest. Her shivering slowly subsided as the warmth from his body bled into hers.

* * *

Hermione awoke to the sound of a heartbeat; loud and oddly comforting in her ear. Her stomach would not give her peace; it seemed to be rolling around, twisting with nausea. Her head felt light and extremely woozy, her limbs ached. Licking her lips did no good; her whole mouth was dry as a desert. It was then she realized the heartbeat was still there, and that there were arms holding her to the point of crushing her against a muscled chest. A streak of fear bolted through her and she shifted, opening her eyes to stare into the closed eyes of Draco Malfoy, who she seemed to be embracing around the neck.

If she had had her voice, she would have screamed. But she didn't, and she was too dizzy to do so, the only thing she could do was shove him away from her with all the strength she could muster.

He awoke just before he fell off the edge of the bed, righting himself as the witch ran to the bathroom. He heard the sounds of her being sick again and went to her, pulling her hair back as he had done the night before.

Soon as she was done she pushed him away, rinsing out her mouth once more. Her steps were unsteady and she had to stop several times to clear her foggy mind, but she managed to make her way to her bed, grabbing her wand from its place on her nightstand. He said nothing as she pointed it at him.

Grateful that some of her voice had returned, she cleared her throat.

"I told you to leave last night. I _heard_ you leave. Why didn't you?"

"You had a very high fever, Granger. Someone needed to take care of you." His voice was low and still had a slightly strained tone to it.

"You could have taken me to Madam Pomfrey," she suggested, exasperated. He had slept with her! Revulsion took hold of her, and she feared she would be sick again. Her arms wrapped around herself.

"But I didn't," he replied, crossing his arms. The movement drew her eyes to his chest and she blushed, turning so quickly she heard her neck crick.

"You're almost naked!" she hissed.

He laughed. "No need to be shy, Princess. You'll see all of me eventually."

Before he had finished her spell had struck him in the chest and he found himself careening backwards and out her room to crash painfully against the wall, so hard it knocked all the breath from him. Something cut at his arm and he clenched at it, swearing. When he looked up his own clothing hit him right in the face and her door slammed shut so loudly he could feel it where he sat. It was muffled, but he thought he heard a stifled sob before the sound was cut off abruptly, as if someone had just cast a Silencio around their room.


	16. I'm Not Afraid Of You

He walked with a quiet confidence, with his long, sturdy arms swinging at his sides, legs kicking out at each step, his cheerful face in an awkward smile as he ventured out onto the school grounds. The gentle sunlight streaming in through the windows set off the brown tones in his black hair, making the soft, chunky home-knit sweater he sported look vibrant and not as garishly colored as it really was.

Having just dropped off Luna at her dorms, he'd decided to take a walk about the lake. He needed some fresh air, and who knew, maybe he would find some plinkweed along the shore for his research. So he walked out the grand doors; past his schoolmates who called out greetings as he passed by, past the Quidditch pitch and into the meadow that lay nearby. He didn't even have to look where he was going at that point, even with his eyes closed, he would have known how to get to the lake. The reflected light off the gleaming waters danced merrily on the shore; the smell and the sound of the rippling waters were a beacon for him.

It wasn't as cold as it had been a fortnight ago; the snow had melted, and though Spring wasn't upon them yet, the cold was gone, replaced by a wonderful breeze that tousled your hair in a playful caress as you walked. Indeed, if he closed his eyes and listened hard, he might just hear the newborn leaves rustling in the winds and the birds singing.

And so content in his own world, he did just that, slowing his pace even more so as not to trip over any mischievous roots or stray stones. He was closer to the water now; the noise of his classmates was nothing but a faint murmur in the background. Though the lake was a hot spot for hanging out, it was rather muddy and the water was too frigid still, so it seemed he was alone for now.

Or so he thought.

Now Neville Longbottom wasn't the smartest, but he certainly wasn't stupid. So when he sensed a disturbance in the air, he opened his eyes and looked around once. Twice.

Nothing stuck out at him as he looked around slowly. He took a few steps to his right, where he was positive he had just sensed movement.

He waited for a second or two, holding his breath.

"Hello?" he called out, "Is anyone there?"

His voice echoed slightly around him, startling a small flock of birds out of a tree, but he received no response.

Waiting for a bit more, he strained his ears, listening hard. He was positive there was someone around.

If only he could find that person.

 _Maybe they don't want to be found, though,_ his mind suggested. _Perhaps that's why they're hiding from you._

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Tucking his wand back into his pocket, he slowly resumed his quest for the lake, sneaking quick glimpses behind him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, as he looked back, but it was either his mind playing tricks on him or he could have sworn he'd seen something quickly making a path of escape through the tall grass.

* * *

Hermione sprinted back into the castle, clutching at a stitch in her side. Her breath came in short, frenzied spurts and her legs ached but she didn't stop running. Lucky for her it was dinner time and most everyone was in the Great Hall. Her footsteps crashed around her, reverberating around the stone walls that caged and protected her. Having nearly been caught by Neville outside was both a blessing and a curse.

Earlier she'd escaped the strict (yet comforting) confines of the school and had gone for a breather, stretch her legs a bit. She'd come across the area by the lake and had cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, just so no one would bother her were anyone to walk by. One thing had come to another and she hesitantly turned her thoughts to the young man who was plaguing her life.

She honestly didn't know what to think, however, and that troubled her greatly.

Certainly, Malfoy was a demon in ways more than one; intent on his want for her. She shivered again. He'd tortured her from the get-go, throwing insulting names out at her like sharpened knives until she learned to toughen her skin to the dragon's claws. On many an occasion throughout the previous years had he sought for opportunities to taunt her or remind her of her blood status, or simply hang around her and glare. Draco Malfoy was both a malevolent presence in her mind and in the real world.

In the beginning, it had hurt. This beautiful boy who hated her because of her blood; who only looked at her to criticize, to tease, who thought nothing of her other than the fact that she was a dirty little Mudblood who had no right to be at Hogwarts. She bitterly looked back on the day he had first called her a Mudblood; the tears she had shed. But she had grown, oh how she had grown. Thanks to Harry and Ron, she had learned to not let Malfoy get the best of her. His insults were (almost) nothing to her, she always ignored them (for the most part). But she knew enough about Draco Malfoy to know that he was someone she should not waste her time on. He was a Death Eater's son and lived under Voldemort's nose, spoiled and raised with the Dark Arts, he was cruel and conceited. She had always considered him to be a Death Eater, but now according to his father, apparently he wasn't. Suppressing a tremor, she bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth.

 _Death Eater or not, it does not excuse his behavior towards you at all,_ said a stern voice in her mind.

Frankly, she agreed. He had her under his control, though he did not completely mandate her actions, she could not ask anyone for help or even mention the situation she was in to anyone. Every day she severely regretted not having told someone sooner. She had dealt with Cormac quickly, why couldn't she have done the same for Malfoy?

 _At the very least I could have told Harry_ , she thought, sadly. Then there was the blasted ring and the fact that already numerous times he had assaulted her! The thought made her eyes water; she hadn't even gotten to that point with Harry and here was Draco sodding Malfoy who thought he could just strut in and pretend he owned her? Hermione's blood boiled.

Reaching the portrait, she muttered, "Persephone," and stepped inside. She knew he wouldn't be inside, she had seen him in the Quidditch pitch along with the rest of the Slytherin team. She'd felt doubly glad then she'd used the camouflaging charm on herself as she'd sprinted to the castle, hating the fact that she was doing just what he wanted. No part of her wanted to be here but his Imperius, was still active and kept her under his control, and though he hadn't abused that like he'd done the other night in his bed, it was just enough to keep her from exposing him. Whenever she tried, her tongue locked up and she couldn't get a word out, not a single sound.

She hadn't known the Imperius curse could still be active. It frightened her to think that it still had hold of her when he was not around. 

Malfoy had been distant these past few days, to her relief. He was almost never in the Head Common Room anymore, and even though there were no complaints coming from her, she knew he was up to something. Whenever she saw him he seemed to have a hard glint in his eye, a tiny quirk to his lip, holding a secret she so desperately wanted to discover. During their patrols together he actually kept his distance, which amazed her. He would walk a few paces behind her, lost in his thoughts, but she could always feel his eyes on her.

" _Yes, Granger. You will be my wife soon."_

She started with surprise, eyes wide. Had he really said that? How could she not have remembered? She began to shake, her fingers, which had been unbuttoning her jumper, suddenly couldn't grasp the small objects.

"Besoin d'aide, mon amour?"

A shriek ripped itself out of her throat and she stumbled back as she backed into her dresser once she caught sight of who was leaning against her door frame.

Still clad in his Quidditch uniform, Malfoy smirked at her. The green and silver made his eyes look even clearer, to an unsettling degree. His hair was tousled and windswept, and he had his arms crossed at his chest as he looked at her.

"Je te previens, laisse-moi tranquille," she snarled, raising her wand to shut the door.

He appeared swiftly behind her, pocketing her wand before she could force him out. Reaching his arms around her, he undid the buttons of her jumper as she struggled to get away. As he slid the fabric off her arms, he murmured, "I didn't know you could speak French."

Soon as her arms were free, she stepped as far away from him as she could.

"You don't know anything about me," she said quietly.

He inclined his head. "That may be easily remedied."

"How did you know I was here? You were at the Quidditch Pitch," she accused, eyes narrowing.

Malfoy grinned. "You can't hide from me, pet." He took a step towards her and she backed away at the same moment.

"I want answers," she announced. "And my wand."

"I'll answer depending what your questions are, and as for your wand, absolutely not."

Hermione made a grab for it anyway but he sidestepped her, ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the edge of her bed, waiting. "Ask what you will, but if you try that again I'll leave and I'll take your wand with me."

His words didn't please her, but seeing as she needed her wand, she acquiesced and walked up to him slowly. "This is only for verification," she stated. "Move one inch and you will regret it."

He looked both curious and suspicious, but nodded. She stepped beside him, and caught his left arm, lifting it to her waist. He caught on and smirked, holding his arm out so she wouldn't have to carry it. Her fingers worked quickly despite their shaking, and soon enough his arm gear was on the floor; and his sleeve was rolled up to the crook of his elbow.

Nothing. His white, snowy skin was untainted, unmarred. Perfect.

He looked at her confused expression, could almost hear the gears turning in her head.

"Disappointed?" he asked.

She set his arm down and took one step back.

"I thought your father was lying," she muttered.

He sat up a bit straighter. "What did my father tell you?"

"What I just found out," she replied. Her eyes narrowed. "Why aren't you a Death Eater?"

"Are you disappointed?" he asked again.

"Of course not. Loathsome as you are, and despicable as you actions may be, it would have been a thousand times worse were you one. But you not being a Death Eater does not mean I forgive you for the things you've done to me," she spat. "Nor will I ever."

Draco simply leaned back on his elbows on the mattress, watching her.

"I have my reasons for not being a Death Eater," he said slowly.

"Meaning you won't answer my question," she said flatly.

He laughed. "Basically. Next question."

She placed her hands on her hips. "What was that nonsense of me being your wife?"

He laid back on her bed now, his long legs still bent and set on the floor.

"Oh, Granger," he sighed. "That's no nonsense."

Hermione huffed. "Of course it is. I have no plans to marry at the present, or ever, if they involve you."

Malfoy snorted, his eyes flashing. "You'd rather marry Potter?"

"You asking me questions was never part of the deal, Malfoy," she said.

He sat up slowly. "I wasn't aware we'd struck a deal, dearest."

"You agreed to let me ask questions, but you never said you had any of your own, and I won't answer any." She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. "Now leave my room, I've no more questions."

He smiled widely. "Sit down."

She froze. Her knees were already buckling. "No."

" _Sit down,_ sweetheart. I don't like to repeat myself."

She sat, still fighting the influence of his Imperius.

"I'll kill you," she said, her body tense with rage and effort to free herself. "I swear I will."

Draco stood and walked slowly over to her, making sure each footstep was loud enough for her to hear. Her eyes were fire, wishing him death with every step.

"The strongest words I've heard from you yet," he said, coming to stop before her, crouching to meet her eye. "But look at you, sitting at my command."

"I am not afraid of you," she stated. Her lip trembled.

"Raise your left arm."

She did.

"Now the other one."

She followed unwillingly.

"Put them down."

"Do you enjoy controlling other people?"

"None so much as you."

"I'll find a way out," she vowed. "You'll never have me."

Draco stood and walked towards the door, pausing just to say, "Good luck, little bird."

* * *

She was in bed. The illness had taken root inside her; it consumed her as she breathed. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. It was as though she had never been healthy; she was always in bed now.

They both had known this day would come, but had pretended otherwise. How he regretted that now. Would there still be a chance for her if they had taken action sooner? He should have paid attention to the signs.

The fatigue, the diminished appetite, how she could sleep for days. And it wasn't until after their son had been tasked with the impossible that she had finally been caught off guard by this mysterious ailment and had been in bed ever since.

Narcissa laid in troubled sleep, her fair, aging features smoothed into a likeness of herself in her schoolgirl days. The pale yellow hair he had always loved lay fanned out around her head like a weak halo on the pristine pillow. Lucius shifted in his chair beside her bed, but he never took his eyes off his wife.

Apparently she had heard the noise, for her eyes opened.

He was crouching beside her in an instant. "I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered, his hand reaching for hers.

She grasped it firmly, and said nothing for a moment. She stared out the window into the twilight sky and he watched her.

"Where is my son?"

Her voice was quiet, slightly raspy. Lucius squeezed her hand softly.

"Draco said he will be home soon," he told her.

Narcissa did not react the way he'd expected her to. She simply nodded, a slightly satisfied expression on her face.

"Make sure he does," she warned, her eyes closing again. He waited for her to speak, but her breathing evened out and she fell asleep.

He laid her hand back down and sat back down in his seat, and did not move.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Besoin d'aide, mon amour?"- Need help, my love?
> 
> "Je te previens, laissez-moi tranquille,"- I'm warning you, leave me alone.)


	17. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. The plot is my idea.

He looked at his hand resting on his desk with guarded eyes. Though it was still intact and connected to his body, it was useless. The curse had withered his hand like a common weed to a garden flower. Blackened and slightly shriveled, his fingers were grotesquely contorted; forcing him to hide his hand at all times so as not to stir suspicion or worry.

"You're not listening to me," came a low voice from the front of his desk.

Adjusting his glasses with his good hand, he looked up at the Potions Professor, who bore an agitated expression on his sallow face.

"Forgive me, Severus. I am an old man, my thoughts seem to run in all directions," he chuckled.

The other man did not chuckle.

"How can you find amusement when you know what is coming? Have you forgotten that you will be dead in a manner of time?" Severus hissed, placing his cold, spindly hands on the Headmasters' desk.

"I have not forgotten, Severus, nor do I choose to let that thought consume my every waking thought. I know I will die; it is inevitable. I know that my death will be at the hands of Mister Malfoy rather than yours." Seeing the other man's reaction, he continued, "I am aware of the Vow you made to his mother, but something tells me young Draco will be eager to accomplish his mission."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "And you are relying solely on a feeling?"

Dumbledore stood and strolled to the arched window behind his desk, where he kept an assortment of wizard peculiarities.

"Quite. And I have never been wrong, Severus, you know that quite well," Dumbledore wagged a finger. The Professor fought the urge to roll his eyes, and fought down a wave of unease that threatened to consume him.

The day he had spoken to Hermione after class had been the same day Draco had informed him or his plans for her. Concern for the girl had prompted him to set out for the Headmaster's office immediately, but that's where the boy had him. The young Malfoy had forced him to take a Wizard's Oath, which was not as severe as an Unbreakable Vow, it was still very powerful and had its own form of punishment should he break his oath not to speak of Draco's plans.

The Headmaster did not seem to notice the other man's rare anxiety. Humming softly to himself, he reached out and absently stroked Fawkes, his brilliantly plumaged Phoenix.

A rustle of fabric told him his visitor was gone.

The Headmaster looked out the window to the sun disappearing behind the mountains and the hills that surpassed the school grounds.

There was a stillness to the air that seeped into one's bones, made them jittery and feel as though they were being watched.

Fawkes turned its head to its master and looked at him from the side of its eye.

A small smile worked up into the old man's face.

"Why, Fawkes," said he, "I believe something wicked is coming to Hogwarts."

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open. His forehead was beaded with sweat. Outside the moon shone, casting a sinister glow to the grounds and the school.

He'd had that dream again-the one on the Astronomy Tower. There were lots of people, lots of voices, but the entire dream had a distorted, fuzzy quality to it; as though he were watching from under water. That didn't prevent the dread that filled him, though.

Tomorrow was the trip with Dumbledore. He'd received a note from the man himself during dinner, instructing him not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione. The Occlumency lessons he'd been taking from Snape weren't really helping; it didn't help that he was dreadful at it, either. It was humiliating and draining, not being able to stop the foul man from looking through his mind.

He slung his arm over his eyes, erasing the dream from his mind. He would tell Dumbledore tomorrow.

* * *

Kicking off his socks, Draco slid into the bed beside the witch, who he had already spelled into a deep slumber. Her deep, steady breathing comforted him as he eased himself next to her, tugging her scarlet blankets over them both. Her dark curls fanned over the pillow and twined around his arms as he grabbed her waist and tucked her into him.

 _Tomorrow's a big day_ , he thought, chuckling to himself.

She shuddered in her sleep, as though she knew what he was talking about. She wore a large t-shirt and purple drawstring pyjama pants with tiny blue polka dots. His skin, his heart hummed from their close proximity and the heat from her body, her every breath he could feel brush against him.

He felt the skin on her arms break into gooseflesh and he rubbed it away slowly, enjoying the way she nestled her head into his neck.

He smiled and closed his eyes, placing his hands on her tummy.

 _I will have you tomorrow,_ he thought, and drifted into sleep.


	18. The End Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. The plot is my idea.

The light inside the glass structure had a greenish tint to it. It lent the space a feel of freshness and paired with the controlled humidity, was all around a refreshing place to be in, if one could tolerate the many strange kinds of plant species and their strange behaviors that were within. There were so many of them the greenhouse was a tangled jungle of green, allowing not much space for students to work, unless asked very nicely.

These magical plants filled the space, sprawling around the tables and the walls. Gardening equipment littered the workspace, making it a requirement that anyone who entered exert extreme caution lest they trip over a pair of shears or get tangled up in a gardening hose.

Luckily, the young man at work inside the curious structure knew his way around by heart. Having worked so many times there, he knew where everything was at all times and, if asked, could rattle off on the magical properties of each and every plant that thrived around him without stuttering or blushing once, he had been known to do when he was younger.

Humming softly to himself, he turned the tap and waited a second or two until the warm water began to flow. He'd been working inside the greenhouse, doing some volunteer work for Professor Sprout, and was just cleaning up to go to lunch.

Drying his hands, he untied his smock and stowed it into his bag as he walked out of the greenhouse. It was a blustery day; the sky was cloudless and grey, the rustling of the branches filled his ears as he walked through the grounds to the castle. His hair blew across his face-he pulledca cap on.

There was a storm coming; he could feel it. The long grass looked soft and thick as a blanket as it bent to the wind. He picked up his pace and changed his direction, but after a few steps he came to a halt.

Sitting there at the base of a tree was Hermione. Neville took in her odd appearance. Her eyes were open and unseeing, staring right at the school, or beyond it. Her hair was loose; the bulk of its heavy mass was draped over one shoulder but random curly stands whipped about her face in the frenzied winds.

"Hermione?" he called. She couldn't hear him through the wind. It seemed she didn't even know he was there. She was deep in thought, which was a very normal occurrence but something in her expression gave him pause.

He reached out and shook her shoulder lightly. She didn't even jump, only looked up slowly to see her worried friend standing above her. She blinked twice.

"What's wrong, Neville?" she asked. Her voice was faint, as close as he was; Neville had to strain his ears to hear her.

"Hermione, there's a storm coming. You should come inside," he warned.

Hermione nodded. "I'd like to stay out here, if just for a minute more." She sounded distant, which unnerved him, because she'd never acted so strangely before.

"I could wait and walk you up to the castle," he offered solemnly. He felt a prickle in his skin. Something was not right.

Hermione shook her head, tucking the errant strands of hair behind her ear.

"Don't worry about me, Neville," she said, "I'll be inside in a few minutes. I just need some time alone."

Seeing him still standing there, uncertain, she gave him a small smile. He noticed that it seemed forced.

"Go on," she told him. "I'd hate to ruin your day."

Urged by some random impulse, Neville bent down and gave her a small, tight hug. She stiffened at first, but then her hands wrapped around his shoulders and she whispered a small 'thank you' into his fuzzy sweater.

"I better see you at dinner, Hermione," he said in a jokingly menacing tone. "'Else Luna and I'll be worried about you."

He gave her a small wave and walked back, glancing over his shoulder to check on the darkening sky and the motionless girl sitting at the tree, staring vacantly at the ancient castle.

Hermione looked down to the small square of parchment she held tightly in her hand. Ron had given it to her during breakfast and they had read it in silence.

 _Ron, Hermione,_ it read,

_You know who I'm with and what we're out to do. I don't know how long we'll take, but I want you both to keep an eye on things in the castle. Hermione, try to keep an eye on Malfoy if you can. He's been walking around the school late at night and I want to know what he's up to. Ron, see if you can contact the Order and keep them alert and ready in case anything happens. I've left you both the last of the Felix Felicis. Use it well._

_Be safe._

_-Harry_

As soon as they had finished reading the note, Ron had pulled her into a bear hug, telling her everything was going to be ok. She'd nodded and watched as he left for the Owlery, trying to believe his words, but she couldn't. She knew something was going to happen today.

Hermione's blood was running cold. She knew about Malfoy's late night walks; sometimes, deep in her sleep she could hear him walking through the common room and out the portrait hole. Though she had placed newer, more advanced wards and locks on her doors, she knew he had slept with her the previous night. She'd awoken to find (to her horror,) his Slytherin tie knotted around her neck. She'd raced to the bathroom, fighting the vomit that crawled up her throat, and had yanked the slip of fabric off. And she froze, staring at her reflection's neck.

A large purplish-red bite mark marred her skin. Tentatively, she had reached up and ghosted her fingers over it, feeling the crusty dried blood rub off. It was so sore it hurt to even turn her head and she'd almost wished she hadn't taken the tie off. Almost.

No healing spell or glamour charm would disguise it. She ground her teeth, cursing the demented bastard as she rubbed her arms.

She felt dirty, violated, even. To know that he had been in her bed more than once, touching her as she slept made her feel sick. How was she never aware of it when it was happening? How many other times had he done it? Did she even want to know? Her skin crawled. After a quick examination of her body she had gladly concluded that he had not done anything else (but she had noticed some finger-print shaped bruises on her hips, which she promptly healed). She had not seen him at all today, and was quite glad, because she was certain she would have killed him.

He had no right to come into her room much less her _bed,_ without any invitation. That he had the nerve and audacity to do this rankled so deep she shook with anger. She hated him. She wanted to tell someone more than ever, but it was if he had placed a tongue-lock jinx on her while she slept, or perhaps it was his Imperius _still_ in effect, preventing her from getting help.

_The dirty, disgusting cheater..._

It would be difficult, and she would be lying to herself to say she wasn't afraid, but she couldn't let him continue to get away with this. She couldn't take it any longer, and hated herself for not having acted at once the first time he had kissed her. If she couldn't get help her only other choice was to face him if she wanted to be rid of him once and for all.

Folding the bit of parchment, she tucked it back into her knitted dress' pocket and adjusted her scarf, making sure it covered the bite. Ginny had gotten them before from her past boyfriends and called them 'love marks'. Hermione refused to call the one she had recieved from Malfoy as such. She had not been conscious, she had not consented, she never had and never would ask for something so...possessive. It felt awful to know he had marked and _claimed_ her with this mark and the scar on her arm and even that awful ring like she was some sort of item or bit of land to conquer.

_I am not._

If he had not left the mark visible she would never have known. Perhaps he would have gone farther than just groping and kissing. He could have raped her any one of the apparently several times he had crawled into her bed. She was glad he had not. She would _not_ let him go that far _._

A fat raindrop fell on her cheek, and she looked up, surprised. The sky had darkened, and almost by magic, dark, menacing clouds had rolled onto the scene and were approaching the castle quickly.

"Oh, damn," she moaned, and stood up quickly. Throwing her shoulder bag on, she raced towards the castle as fast as she could just as lightning lit up the school grounds. A loud clap of thunder followed immediately, and she winced as it rang in her head.

She was almost up all the steps leading to the castle doors when she tripped, scraping her knee along the concrete steps. Hissing in pain, she hobbled into the castle and collapsed onto the floor to investigate her wound. Her stockings were torn, and the cut in her knee was only just beginning to bleed. Sighing with relief, she healed it quickly and set off for the Great Hall.

* * *

"When am I to grab her?" asked Blaise in a low voice.

Draco looked up from his food and grabbed his goblet, raising it to his lips.

"After this," he murmured. His companion nodded and resumed eating his apple pie.

They both absently watched the girl who sat two tables away, sitting beside the Weasely siblings, who both looked grave. The Weasely girl was trying to start a conversation, but neither of the Gryffindors seemed to want to participate. Weaselbee seemed preoccupied stuffing anything in reach into his mouth, and Granger was fiddling with her goblet, her eyes roaming around the hall rather miserably.

Draco eyed her scarf, which had been wound around her neck tightly and his lip lifted in a dark smile, the memory of her body in his hands and his mouth on her neck, teeth in her flesh and her pained moan filling his ears. He raised his eyes and found she was giving him a venomous look, a blush staining her cheeks. He winked at her and she looked away, revolted.

He wanted nothing more than to march right to that table, rip that scarf off her neck and fuck her into the table in front of everyone. He wanted Weasley and all the others to watch in horror as he finalized his claim on one of their dearest members. But that could wait, couldn't it? Soon, he'd have her all to himself, and there would be nothing to deter him from getting what he wanted.

He glanced up to the staff table, serious again. The Headmaster wasn't there. Automatically he looked to Granger and Weasley, searching for Potter. He wasn't there either.

 _Interesting,_ he thought. _But this won't do. Everything is set and_ _everything must happen tonight._

"Come with me _,"_ he muttered to Blaise and swiftly stood up from the table, walking out the door without another word as his friend followed.

* * *

Ron and Hermione watched as they left, frowning.

"Are you going to follow them?" Ron asked quietly.

"It's too risky to do it now," Hermione replied. "Do you have the Map?"

Ron groaned, slapping his hand on the table. "I knew I forgot something. Sorry."

"Don't fret," she whispered, "We'll just have to work without it for now."

* * *

 _He's gone for a drink,_ read the coin.

It was a simple galleon, but he'd taken a page from Granger's book and had charmed it so he could communicate with Madame Rosemerta, who was under his Imperius. He stuffed it into his pocket, cursing.

What in the blazes did that mean? Surely the old man could have just drunk inside the school?

He placed his hands on his hips, swearing. Blaise stood nearby inside the empty classroom, watching with patient eyes.

"You could always summon him," he offered.

"Yes, and how would that work exactly? Should I send him a nice letter? 'Dear Headmaster, get your saggy arse back to Hogwarts so I can kill you, Regards, Malfoy'. D'you think that would do the trick?"

Frustrated, he kicked a chair, sending it flying to the wall. The sound it made as it collided with the stone wall was extremely satisfying, and he watched as it broke into a large pile of splinters.

"You need to calm down, Draco. You're not thinking straight."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He sat down on top of a desk, his elbows on his knees.

"You meant using the Dark Mark when you said summon, didn't you," he stated.

"Correct." Blaise walked towards the door. "You can fire the mark into the sky at the Astronomy tower; they'll be able to see it as far as Hogsmeade, and Dumbledore will come running."

"Right." Draco pulled hissed from his pocket. He pointed to Blaise. "Stay here, get the girl. Make sure to wait until I come to pick her up. _Do not let her escape_. You know how she is, she'll think of a way."

"You can't just grab her on your own?" Blaise asked, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "I'm sure it'd be easier that way."

"I don't want to risk anything," Draco said impatiently. "She'll be fighting me the whole way. I need both hands free."

Blaise gestured around him to the decrepit classroom. "How am I supposed to keep her here, then?"

"Stun her," Draco said impatiently. "Tie her up. Imperius her. As long as she isn't hurt and you remember she's _mine._ "

"Fine." Blaise snapped. "I'm glad to be of help, but when I asked I thought I'd be with you, not down here helping you kidnap Granger."

"Enough," Draco said angrily. "She's just as important as the mission. Secure her and wait for my signal."

Blaise didn't look happy. Draco left the room.

He stalked through the halls, grateful everyone was still in the Great Hall. Up two, three flights of stairs, down another hall, and then up the tower.

It had stopped raining some time ago. The air was close and humid. He stepped out into the wet, cold air, raised his wand, and cast the incantation.

"Morsmordre!"

An enormous green, glowing serpent hung in the air, wrapping itself around a menacing skull slowly. It would take hardly any time for someone to notice it from Hogsmeade, and the Headmaster would come running to protect his pathetic flock.

* * *

She was on her way to the Head Common Room. She would change, and then head to the Gryffindor tower to retrieve the Mauraders' Map and take the Felix Felicis along with Ron, who was waiting fo her, so she had to hurry.

"Excuse me, Head Girl?" A soft voice called out from behind her.

Hermione turned around to face a third year girl she vaguely remembered speaking to earlier in the year during one of the Quidditch matches.

"Hello- Cordelia, is it? What can I help you with?" Hermione asked quickly. She needed to get this over with as fast as possible.

The girl, with her large blue eyes fixed on Hermione, simply said, "Someone needs your assistance upstairs."

Hermione tried not to look dismayed. This would take forever, and Ron was still waiting.

"I'm sorry, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. Perhaps you should call a Prefect? Or your Head of House?"

The girl didn't blink. "They asked specifically for you."

Hermione was torn. Perhaps she could race through this and still have time to meet with Ron, and forgo redressing.

"Fine," she sighed. "Where is this person? And who is it, exactly? Hey!"

Cordelia had already begun walking towards their destination. She was advancing into the next hallway.

 _How did she get there so quickly?_ Hermione wondered as she struggled to keep up.

 _It's a good thing I don't have my schoolbag with me_ , thought Hermione. _I'd never be able to keep up with that thing dragging me down._

"Cordelia! Where are we going?" Hermione asked, clutching a stitch in her side. The girl kept going faster and faster. If Hermione managed to catch up the girl would put on a burst of speed and leave her several steps behind.

They wound through several corridors in this fashion. Each of Hermione's questions went unanswered as she followed, growing more and more uneasy.

At last, Cordelia stopped at an open doorway several steps ahead of Hermione, staring blankly at the approaching girl.

"Cordelia, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, for she had finally noticed the peculiar glassy look in the girls' eyes. From far away it looked like she was about to cry, but as she neared, she realized the girl had that look for a very different reason.

Just as she stepped in front of the open classroom a pair of arms shot out from the darkness of inside the room and wrapped themselves around Hermione's waist.

Hermione's scream was cut off by a dark hand covering her mouth. She quickly clamped her teeth down over the offensive hand and tasted blood. Her captor swore loudly, using words that made her blush, but he did not let her go. She reached for her wand but could not produce it; it wasn't in her pocket or on the floor.

Kicking and thrashing, Hermione continued screaming against the hands that held her as whoever held her dragged her into the farthest corner of the room. Hermione craned her neck to get a glimpse of her captor. Her eyes widened when she saw his face, when she saw he had his wand pointed at her.

"Stupefy," muttered Blaise Zabini.

He watched as she sagged in his arms, her frowning eyes closed in slumber.

Lifting her in his arms easily, he laid her down on the only piece of furniture inside the room, the large table by the window.

* * *

The door to the wardrobe opened, and a woman clothed entirely in black, a wicked red smile on her lips and crazed, wild eyes and hair stepped out first.

"I am proud of you, Nephew," she crooned to the young man who offered his hand to help her down.

"Thank you, Aunt Bella," Draco said.

The rest of the party came in, and assembled before him, awaiting their orders.

"You know what to do," Draco said. "The Order already knows you're here. Go hold them off as long as you can. _Do not kill unless necessary_." This comment was directed at Fenrir Greyback, who had been sniffing the air curiously, a look of longing on his scarred, dirty face.

"Will you be needing any assistance, dear Draco?" asked Bellatrix, holding her wand at the ready.

"Not at the moment, Aunt. Go with the others, I will call you when it is done," Draco set off for the Astronomy tower once more, listening with relish as the commotion and shouts in the castle grew louder below him.

* * *

They landed on the top of the Astromomy tower. Harry tried to support the Headmaster as they stood; staring in horror at the Dark Mark, which still glowed and writhed in the air.

Dumbledore fought to stay upright, panting. There was little time left.

"Harry, go and wake Severus. Tell him what has happened. Speak to no one else, and no matter what happens _do not remove your cloak_."

Harry opened his mouth to protest. What did the Professor want Snape here for? But before he could express his thoughts the door leading down back into the castle was flung open with a crash.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's limbs locked together, to his immense surprise. Still hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, he fell to the ground.

He heard footsteps approaching himself and Dumbledore, whose own wand had flown out of his good hand.

 _No No No No No_ his mind raced, he struggled against the spell to no avail _._ He realized Dumbledore had used his chance to defend himself to immobilize him.

"Good Evening, Draco," he heard the Headmaster say. Though he tried to sound normal and polite, Harry could hear the pain behind it.

And at the mention of Malfoy's name, Harry's insides began to boil in anger and desperation.

 _We were right,_ he thought. _Malfoy was up to something._ He cursed himself for not having taken her more seriously and wished he had begun to investigate Malfoy's actions earlier, rather than a few days ago.

"Who else is here?" he heard Malfoy ask. Harry tried with all his might to overthrow the freezing spell; focusing as hard as one could under all the thoughts and rage coursing through him. Dumbledore seemed to sense this and applied more pressure on the spell to avoid Harry doing something rash.

He was exhausted, but he didn't want to give up. He couldn't. Dumbledore needed his help.

He remembered suddenly he had ordered Ron to keep the Order alert in case anything happened. He prayed to Godric they were here, looking for him and Dumbledore. They needed back up badly.

He also remembered he'd requested Hermione to keep tabs on Malfoy. But she wasn't here. Had something happened to her? Panic bubbled up in him, and he began to fight his magical restraints again.

* * *

Her eyes snapped open, and her breathing quickened as she remembered what had happened.

She tried to sit up, but was harshly yanked back down by her restraints. Looking around, she realized she was lying down, strapped onto a table in the dimly lit room.

Blaise Zabini stood above her, watching her with no expression on his face.

It took her a second to comprehend that she could not speak. She glared at him, hoping he would get the question she wanted answered.

"I suppose you want to know what's going on?" he asked, dead-panned.

She nodded, twisting in her restraints in the hopes the friction of her skin against the leather would produce sweat, which would lubricate the leather, therefore allowing her wrists to slide through. She'd have to free her stocking-clad feet differently.

A hand pressing down on her stomach made her stop.

"That won't work, Granger."

She mouthed something at him-likely an insult, but Blaise ignored it and withdrew his hand.

"There are Death Eaters inside Hogwarts tonight," he said as he sat down on the table beside her head.

As soon as his hand had left her body she'd resumed her wriggling, but she stopped, staying deathly still as his words reached her.

"Malfoy ordered me to keep you here until he completes his task. As soon as Dumbledore is dead, I will bring you over to him and the rest and he's going to take you wherever he plans on going."

Hermione's eyes were wide and fearful as she took in his news. Blaise looked down at her and felt. She could not have looked more astounded if Draco himself had come into the room to let her go and begged for her forgiveness.

"Don't be mad at him," he said. "He wanted you safe and out of harm's way so he could finish his mission without you and your other boyfriends mucking it up."

Where was Ron? Was Harry back yet? Gods, Ron might be looking for her at this very moment, and here she was tied down like some sort of wild beast! She had to get out of here. If the Death Eaters were here, then Dumbledore and Harry were on their way, if they hadn't already returned. _I have to find them_.

But first she had to get out of here.

The only question was, how?


	19. The End Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

Ron paced around the Gryffindor Common Room, checking his watch every so often, his hand running nervously through his hair. Just after dinner, Hermione had agreed to meet him there in ten minutes. In preparation he had grabbed the Mauraders' Map, the Felix Felicis potion, and sat down to wait.

And wait.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, and he was still waiting.

 _Merlin's beard, she only said she was going to go change!_ He thought, frowning.

He ran his hand through his mop of red hair again, kicking at a crumpled up piece of parchment that lay on the carpet. Few students remained in the common room, either finishing up homework assignments or snoozing in the armchairs. Everyone was too distracted and caught up in their own business to take note of the almost frantic Weasely.

It was foolish to think she was _still_ changing out of her clothes. Even _he_ wasn't that daft. He couldn't imagine what could be holding her up. Maybe it was Malfoy? What if she'd run into him, and had decided to follow him? Or what if she'd decided to take a quick little detour in the library? It wasn't as if she hadn't done it before.

The fire popped, and he jumped, almost tripping over his large feet as he tried to take another step. Blushing, he looked around quickly, making sure no one had seen.

 _But,_ he thought, _she wouldn't dare do something so stupid when we're supposed to be helping Harry_

With Dumbledore and Harry gone, the school was susceptible for an attack. Though he hoped nothing would happen, he had to be prepared for whatever. Something must have happened to her, he realized with dread, and he began to move to the doorway, already grabbing at the map in his pocket.

A loud slam brought his attention to the portrait entrance, where Neville stood, ashen-faced.

"There's Death Eaters inside Hogwarts!" he shouted, clutching his shoulder, where a hex had ripped through the material of his sweater. Ron could see the gash, the blood running down his arm.

The floor seemed to turn into a vat of jell-o, his stomach sank to his toes.

The students around him began to panic; two first years began to cry, and the older students looked as though they could not believe what they had just heard. He didn't blame them. He couldn't believe it himself.

"You're sure?" he rasped.

Neville gestured to his shoulder, eyes wide, breathing heavily.

 _Right,_ thought Ron. _Stupid, stupid,_ he scolded himself. Neville was shouting something to everyone else but Ron's mind had gone blank-only one thought broke through.

Where was Hermione?

Withdrawing the map from his pocket he ducked into a corner, unfolded it with shaking hands, and tapped it with his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, and as the ink appeared, he scanned every inch of the old parchment for Hermione's name.

It took him a while, seeing as he was in a dark corner. He didn't dare use Lumos lest someone came and saw what he was holding.

He located her on the sixth floor, by the Astronomy tower. She wasn't moving, though. Looking closer, he noticed she wasn't alone.

Blaise Zabini, read the small label by his dot. He didn't like the way his dot was so close to Hermione's.

 _Shit_.

Stuffing the bottle of Felix Felicis into his pocket, the Map into the other, he strode over to Neville.

"I have to go find Harry and Hermione. I think Hermione's in danger. You're in charge, ok? Rally up anyone who wants to fight who is old enough and take them downstairs. Assign a couple people to take care of the younger students." He barely made out Neville nodding as he whipped away.

Before he climbed out of the portrait entrance, he shouted over his shoulder, "And get someone to heal your shoulder!"

* * *

Unable to move, Hermione watched as he took her wand from Cordelia.

"Thank you, dear," he told the girl softly, and watched as he tucked it into his pocket.

"You'll forget what you just saw and helped me with. Now the school isn't safe-run to your Common Room and stay there," he instructed, and Hermione watched angrily as the Imperiused little girl calmly walked out of the room.

Once he had seen Cordelia safely down to the end of the corridor from where he stood, Blaise turned, sitting back down in his chair. From time to time his eyes would settle on her but for the most part Blaise looked off into the windows behind her, evidently bored. Hermione tried catching his attention from time to time but his brooding stare out the window was making that rather hard. A fierce burst of impatience took hold of her and Hermione began to wrestle against her binds once more-she needed to know what was happening in the castle, she had to get _out_.

All her movement caught Blaise's attention and his reverie was broken at last-his eyes turned onto her. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Don't give me that look, Granger. It's not as if I volunteered for this. I much rather would have participated in the fight, but _he's_ making me _babysit_ you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, tried slipping her shoe off to make getting out of the bind easier. It took several minutes and she was not secretive about what she was doing in her impatience to leave. At last, with a vicious flick of her ankle her shoe went flying off and clattered onto the floor. Blaise glanced at it but made no move to stop her. Hermione started on her other shoe. That one came off faster. When it was done she began to wriggle again, carefully shifting her legs in ways and angles that might help them slip from their binds faster.

"I suppose I always knew Malfoy had a thing for you," Blaise said suddenly.

Hermione would have let out an unladylike snort if his silencing spell would have let her.

"Don't look so doubtful, Granger. Every since he met you he's been complaining about you. 'Granger this' and 'Granger that'! It wasn't until third year after your incident outside the oaf Hagrid's hovel that it really started. And after the Yule Ball it got worse. He'd just go on about you for no apparent reason. Everyone else thought it was just because you bested him at everything." Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his knees and looked at her more seriously.

"I've known Draco longer than anyone, so I could read him like a book. I could tell he fancied you, even if he didn't know it. Although-" he tilted his head, watching her, and uncomfortable, she squirmed, "it seems more of an obsession than just a crush."

Perhaps that explained the frequent staring, but Hermione was not sure she could believe Blaise after he had just stunned her.

"I'm the only one who knows, really," he added with a sense of pride.

Hermione would have rolled her eyes again if she hadn't been so stunned by what he was telling her.

"During meals, in the corridors, whenever you were around, I'd catch him staring at you even though he tried being subtle about it. And now you both live together and I hardly see him because he's always there, waiting for you." His voice was becoming distant, a little uncertain.

"I told him to woo you. He didn't listen to me, did he."

Hermione shut her eyes, her legs still working to free themselves. A shameful blush overtook her face.

Blaise recieved his answer through that reaction. He eyebrows raised. "He hasn't ra-"

 _"No,"_ she said in a violent burst, her face redder than Ron's hair. Neither of them had realized Blaise's Silencio wear off.

"Oh." Blaise sounded relieved.

Hermione had heard enough. What Malfoy had done to her was more than enough already and she didn't want anything else to do with him except for testify in his future trial before he was sent to Azkaban. _I'll take him there myself if I have to._

 _"Let me go,"_ she mouthed at him. Blaise at least had the grace to look genuinely? sympathetic.

"I can't."

Those two words made her realize she must not have been the only person Draco had threatened. Who would threaten their closest friend? Or was there someone reason? What could it be?

Suddenly she wanted to vomit. Tears of frustration leaked from her eyes and she turned her head away angrily.

A hand on her cheek brushed away the tears, and thinking it was Malfoy, she jumped violently. Instead, it was Blaise.

"Don't cry, Granger," he said. "It won't be as bad as you think. Sure, Draco's a total knob sometimes but I think he does care about you. And you won't even have to finish school!" he said. "Think of it, no more exams!"

Exams were the least of Hermione's worries. Tears of frustration began to slide down her cheeks.

 _You haven't seen what he's done to me,_ she wanted to yell at him. _He doesn't care about anyone but himself._

 _"_ You don't _honestly_ believe that _."_

"I don't know all his motives or thoughts," he said, "but I know he must care for you if he asked me to keep you safe in here."

 _"Oh, how noble of him!_ "

"He could be just shy," Blaise said, shrugging. "Merlin knows he's cold enough. I reckon you scare him. Maybe that's why he went this route, because he didn't know how to get you to like him."

This was the most delusional raining Hermione had ever heard in her life. "Are you trying to convince yourself he's not as bad as he is? If he was so shy and scared then he wouldn't have had the nerve to assault me repeatedly, or do _this_." She turned her head to show him the injury on her neck. Blaise stared at it for a moment.

"He _bit_ you?" His voice was quiet, shaken.

"While I was asleep." She turned her head again to meet his eye, her own still leaking. "Tell me again he is just misunderstood."

"Shit." Blaise passed a hand over his face.

"Please let me go, Blaise," she said, fighting to keep the hysteria from creeping into her voice. "He'll do worse than this, we both know that."

"Shit." He screwed up his face. "Fuck me, I _can't_ , Granger."

Her heart sank. "Why not?"

"This is part of the plan. He's counting on you being here. Him and the Dark Lord. If you're not here I'll look bad, and who knows what Draco will do to me? I may be his friend but he's about to walk into a load of power and I can't hide from any of them if I help you."

As he spoke she twisted her foot and by some miracle she was able to slide it through the restraint quite easily.

_Yes!_

"We can help you," she said as calmly as she could though her heart beat threatened to maker her pass out. "Just come with me."

He looked so indecisive it almost hurt to see

"I-I can't, Granger," he said _. "_ I'm sorry."

He was sincere but Hermione felt no comfort. He would rather remain in his friend's good fraces than help her. He would leave her here to her eventual rape. Well, Hermione didn't agree _._

By now both her legs were free. She raised them, twisted again, and aimed for a good shove. Her feet caught Blaise right in the chest and with an uttered curse he tumbled backwards and into his chair, sending it clattering to the wall. Hermione's side hurt, the abrupt movement had nearly cause her lower half to fall off the table but she caught herself in time and brought herself up, now fighting wildly to free her arms before Blaise tied her up again.

"Fucking hell, Granger, do you want me to Stun you?" He had risen from the floor, and dodged Hermione's feet planting into his face. Just as she reared them in for another attack he sprang forward and caught her ankles in his hands.

 _NO!_ she was crying out but no sound came from her throat. She twisted from one side to the other, trying to shake him off but he held fast and her arms ached to all hell but she would rather fail all her classes than be restrained again to wait for Malfoy. Blaise swore loudly again and managed to pin her legs to the table at last.

"Panicking won't do you any good," he said. "At least try not to escape until I'm out of the picture so I don't get into trouble."

Hermione flushed with rage and tried kicking him again but he blocked her foot with his arm, and forced it back down despite her struggles. With his other hand he drew out his wand.

"It won't be long now." He pointed his wand at her. "I'm sorry about this. I truly am."

Through her terror, she dimly heard a furious yell by the door just as Blaise began uttering the Stupefy and then, somehow, he was gone. Hermione heard the heavy sound of two bodies crashing to the ground.

" _Don't you dare touch her!"_ she heard someone shout and that was followed by the sound of a fist connecting with Zabini's face. She winced as she heard bones crunch and pulled wildly at her restraints.

"Get off of me, Weasley! Expelliarmus!" Blaise shouted, but missed as Ron kicked him in the stomach. She couldn't see from her position on the table, but listened with horror (and pride) as her best friend continued to acquaint his fists with Zabini's flesh.

"Disgusting, pathetic, slime!" Ron roared as he pummeled Blaise, who feebly attempted to hit him back.

Ron bolted up off the floor and cried, "Stupefy!"

Blaise, who had lifted himself off the floor, crashed back down. Not even bothering to check if he was still alive, Ron rushed to Hermione.

"Merlin, Hermione, I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," he apologized before he raised his wand. "Relashio!" The leather straps disappeared and she sat up faster than lightning, throwing her arms around him.

Ron squeezed her so she could hardly draw any air into her lungs. "He didn't do anything, did he?" He was flooded with relief when he felt her shake her head against his chest..

"H-He has my wand," she said hoarsely.

Quickly, Ron stooped over Zabini, plucked her wand from his pocket and handed it back to her in one swift move. Having just remembered about her shoes, she summoned them and put them on before getting off the table. The simple act helped her reagain some composure. She was free and it was relieving. Malfoy would come looking for her and she would be long gone.

"Where's Harry? Is he back?" she asked as she levitated her attacker to his chair and conjured several chains to bind him to it, though she felt somewhat sorry to do it. "What's going on outside?"

"Dunno. I was too busy looking for you first. How'd he get you in here?" he asked.

"Imperiused another student and made her lead me here under the pretense that another student was in trouble," she replied.

Ron glowered at Zabini's bloody form. "That foul troll spawn," he muttered angrily.

Hermione touched his arm. "Let's look at the map," she suggested.

They scanned the worn parchment until Ron shouted out and pointed to the Astronomy tower, where three dots labeled Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, and Draco Malfoy were assembled. Hermione's blood turned to ice when she saw Malfoy's name standing in front of Dumbledore's.

"We have to go. We have to go _**now**_ ," Hermione said and she started off for the door when Ron pulled her back.

"We should take the potion now, just in case," he proposed. Hermione nodded and he reached into his pocket for the tiny glass bottle.

"Ouch!" he yelled and withdrew his hand from his pocket as though he'd been burned. His fingers were bleeding. **  
**

"What is it?" Hermione asked, impatient.

Wordlessly, and growing paler by the second, Ron reached into his pocket more carefully and withdrew several glistening tiny shards of glass. What was left of the potion had seeped into the fabric of his trousers, creating a dark stain.

Hermione's heart sank. Ron swore.

"I must have smashed it when I fell- _shit_! I'm sorry, Hermione, I completely forgot-" Hermione held up a hand to silence him.

"It doesn't matter, Ron. Don't blame yourself for it, okay? You saved me before Malfoy came and that's lucky enough. Now we have to go find Harry and rely on our own luck."

Hermione grabbed his hand and led him out the door and quickly through the halls to the Astronomy tower.

It was eerily silent and calm on the sixth floor. Hermione had expected chaos, but found none.

"Where is everyone?" she whispered, afraid to speak any louder.

"They're battling in the Great Hall," replied Ron.

They broke into a sprint at the exact moment they came into view of the stairs leading up to the tower.

* * *

"Draco, I can help you," the Headmaster said quietly.

Draco scoffed. "With what, pray tell?"

"I know you are not entirely on the dark side, Draco. I know you do not wish to become a Death Eater. Even if you wish to remain neutral, the Order can hide you and your family. You do not have to do this," he added.

"I don't want your help. It's not just that I have to," Draco stated coolly. He raised his wand again, pointed straight to the aged wizard's heart. "I want to."

Harry's mind reeled. Malfoy, a murderer?

"Why would you want to kill me, Draco? I have always been aware that you do not like me, but I never thought you capable of something like this." Harry was surprised at how genuinely sad his mentor sounded.

"It's about power. If I do this, I get what I want," Malfoy said coldly.

"And what do you want?" asked Dumbledore, just as they heard someone racing up the stairs.

Harry knew who it was, who it had to be. It had to.

Thinking quickly, Malfoy dashed to the side, out of range from the doorway and kept his wand pressed into the side of the Headmasters' head.

"Malfoy!" Ron and Hermione shouted as soon as they saw the scene before them.

Before they could take another step, Malfoy whispered 'Incarcerous,' and Professor Dumbledore was bound head to foot.

"Take one more step, make one move, and he dies," he growled. His rage grew at seeing Hermione away from where she was supposed to be. What had happened to Blaise? Did he have Weasley to thank for this?

"How'd you escape, Granger?" he demanded.

She ignored his question, her eyes fixed on the weakened Headmaster.

"Let him go, Malfoy," she pleaded.

"Where's Potter?" he asked. "If you lot and Dumbledore are here, then he must be here as well. Where is he?"

The three other occupants of the tower knew full well where the Boy-Who-Lived was, but remained silent.

"I believe, Mister Malfoy, that your mission has nothing to do with Harry. It should not concern you where he is at the moment," said Dumbledore.

"Fair enough," drawled Malfoy, shrugging one shoulder.

"Let him go, Ferret!" shouted Ron. Though he didn't dare grab for his wand he stood ready for a physical fight.

The silver-eyed young man narrowed his eyes.

"Give me Granger or he dies," he ordered.

Hermione felt all the air leave her lungs. _No._ He was _not_ going to play this game.

"What do you want Hermione for?" Ron asked angrily.

Malfoy looked down his nose at him. "It's shocking sometimes, how idiotic you are."

Throughout this exchange, Hermione was thinking hard.

She didn't even have to think about this, really. Of course she would give her life for Dumbledore. She was planning on it, in a few moments, too. The wizarding world needed them, Dumbledore and Harry. She needed them. Whatever it took to keep their best chances at winning the war would far outweigh what she would have to go through if she willingly went to Malfoy.

_Would it really, though?_

That was the part she was dreading, though. She did not want to give herself to Malfoy. Ever.

But he had her trapped, and he knew it, because he knew what she was going to do. _The bastard_.

He kept his eyes trained on the delicious mix of horror and loathing and deep concentration mixed splendidly into one expression that was on her face..

She hated him, oh, how she hated him.

"Granger, what is your answer?" he asked.

"When hell freezes-" Ron was cut off by Hermione's elbow jabbing into his ribs. Gasping, he glared at her.

"I'll go. But promise me you won't harm him," she conceded.

Malfoy's triumphant smirk made her want to peel it off his face with a knife. "I promise."

"No!" Ron bellowed, snatching her arm and pulling her to him. "You can't just give yourself up like that, Hermione!"

Harry wholeheartedly agreed with Ron's argument. Dumbledore was weakening by the second, he could tell by how he could feel his concentration on the immobilization spell was loosening. In just a few seconds he would be free and he would save them both.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore called, "I cannot allow you to do-" He was swiftly silenced by Malfoy.

Struggling to keep herself calm, Hermione grasped Ron's hands.

"Ronald," she whispered, "Harry and Dumbledore are our only hopes of defeating _him_. I can't let him kill Professor Dumbledore. Everyone needs him more than they need me." She cracked a tiny smile. "I'll find a way out, you know I will, or I'll die trying."

Ron seemed torn, but nodded. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and another hug.

"As _heartwarming_ as this display is, I'm running out of patience. Shall I say it once more?" Malfoy's voice cut through the air.

Hermione sighed, braced herself and pulled away from Ron, who reluctantly let her go.

Holding her head high, she walked stiffly to Malfoy, who was still holding his wand against the Headmasters' throat. Professor Dumbledore looked at her with sad eyes. Hermione tried giving him a reassuring smile.

Just as she reached Malfoy there was a yell, and suddenly Harry came into view, his wand pointed at Malfoy's chest.

"Let them both go, and I let you live," he hissed, his face contorted with rage.

Malfoy didn't move an inch.

"I don't think so, Potter," he drawled slowly. "I knew you were around here somewhere. You see, Granger here has already agreed to come with me in exchange for the safe return of your beloved Headmaster."

"Malfoy, let Dumbledore go," Hermione begged. "You promised."

"Give us a kiss then, love, and I'll let him go," Malfoy said, pulling her closer.

Hermione's hands balled into fists. "That's not fair. That wasn't part of the agreement."

Malfoy ignored her, instead glared at Harry with a smug look in his eye. It was time to get even for his little trick with that 'Sectumseptra' curse. The scars had faded but his pride was still wounded.

"Have you noticed, Potter, that your girlfriend's been acting odd all year?"

"What are talking about?"

Malfoy motioned to Hermione. "Tell him what we've been up to."

Harry didn't know what was going on. He looked at Hermione, who looked on the verge of tears.

" _We_ haven't been up to anything! Harry, please believe me-"

"I snogged her after the ball, did she tell you that, Scarhead? Did she tell you how she lets me sleep in her bed? Has your _girlfriend_ told you that?"

Harry stiffened and looked at Hermione, who had tears streaming down her face. Ron stood awkwardly in the back, his fists clenching and unclenching. This had to be false.

"Don't believe him, Harry! It wasn't mutual! He forced me!" She couldn't elaborate any more on the subject; Malfoy's Imperius prevented her from doing so.

"Don't be embarrassed, Mudblood," Malfoy drawled. "I know you enjoyed it. Remember our first kiss?"

Harry lunged for Malfoy, who ducked out of the way, and before anyone could move again, he grabbed Hermione around the waist and stunned Ron, who crumpled onto the ground.

"Let her go, Malfoy!" Harry shouted.

Malfoy only laughed.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_ he hissed, jabbing his wand into Professor Dumbledore's chest.

The night sky was quickly illuminated with a flash of bright green light. Hermione watched as the light faded from their Headmasters' eyes and screamed as he fell off the edge of the tower from the force of Malfoy's curse.

"NO!" Harry screamed, and grabbed Madame Rosemerta's broom off of the floor and dove after the Professor's body, forgetting about Malfoy, who was currently dragging a hysteric Hermione back into the castle.

"Get your hands off me you vile cockroach! Let go!" Her voice was so thick because of her tears her words were rendered incomprehensible. She clawed and elbowed him with all her strength, not realizing that he somehow had gotten hold of her wand. Draco simply walked on, holding her arms to her sides and forcing her to walk directly in front of him.

"Murderer!" she shouted. "Murderer!"

He said nothing, too euphoric in his double victory to try to calm or silence the girl. Reaching the Room of Requirement, he pushed her inside once the door appeared, and immediately the Death Eater that had been acting as a lookout stood upright, hurrying over to Malfoy.

"Summon the rest," Draco ordered. "It has been done."

The masked Death Eater pressed on his Dark Mark, and almost immediately, his crew returned, save for those that had been either captured or killed in the battle.

Hermione quieted at once and tried to suppress her trembling, feeling a set of eyes on her that she rather would not have wanted. Fenrir Greyback looked her up and down, licking his bloody lips, and Bellatrix Lestrange looked at her with utmost loathing. The madwoman held a small, bloodied knife in one hand and her wand in the other; the way she was looking at her Hermione knew she wanted to use the blade on her. On instinct her hand sprang up to cover the mark Malfoy had cut into her arm, and tried to back away but Malfoy held her in place. The rest of the Death Eaters wore masks, which she was actually thankful for.

"Dumbledore is dead," he announced, and the group cheered. Bellatrix cackled, clapping her hands in delight.

"Go now, quickly, through the cabinet again. They'll be looking for us," he said, and they hastened to follow his orders.

One by one, they left the school through the cabinet. Hermione's brain was frozen with shock. She couldn't move.

The second the last Death Eater had gone, Draco pushed her against the door of the wardrobe and crushed his lips onto hers.

" _Mine_ , at last," he groaned into her mouth.

She tried pushing him away, but he'd wrapped his arms around her and was not letting go.

"Y-You promised, Malfoy. _You promised you wouldn't kill him!_ "She hiccupped as he pulled back for air.

"You've known me for six years, Granger. Did you honestly think I'd keep my word?" He forced his tongue into her mouth and she gagged, feeling around her for something useful.

"You're too naive for someone so brilliant," he said, pulling back to cup her cheek in his palm, his bruising hand tight on her hip. "Though I shouldn't complain as it's worked to my advantage."

Grabbing the first solid, heavy thing she could find, she brought it up and smashed it into the side of his face with all the strength she had left.

She heard his nose crunch and knew he would have bruises and a split lip, but she didn't care. He shouted out in pain and clutched at his nose, reaching for his wand when she raised it again and hit him again on the crown of his head before he could stop her. And again, harder this time. There was blood on the book now, and her arms ached something terrible, but she couldn't stop now.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, knocking the book out of her hands. Frantic, she grabbed the nearest item (her robe-when had that come off?) and flung it at him, and pushed him into the wardrobe as he tried to fling it off, swearing and cursing her.

 _ **"Granger!"** _ he roared.

She slammed the wardrobe door shut and braced herself against it as he tried to push it open from the inside. He pounded at the door; making it jerk violently and she held back a scream, her arms shaking as he whispered to her through it just before he was transported away.

Seeing her wand on the ground, she snatched it up and set the wardrobe on fire. It took some time but she remained there and made sure nothing else caught flame. If she left the wardrobe as it was she ran the risk of keeping the portal open, and she knew beyond a doubt Malfoy would try to come back.

She hadn't realized she'd been crying. Loud, wracking sobs that had to claw their way from her chest. The heat from the fire made her face uncomfortably sticky and tight as it dried her tears.

Once it was done and all that remained was a pile of ashes Hermione ran out of the room and sprinted through the school, out the exit and onto the lawn where she saw a large group assembled.

They were staring down at the body of Albus Dumbledore. Harry was beside the broken corpse, looking as if he was expecting the Headmaster to open his eyes and sit up. Ron was comforting Ginny in the crowd. The students huddled around them didn't dare speak; too transfixed by their horror.

Collapsing onto her knees beside Harry, by the Professor's head, the tears began to flow, and she looked down onto the man whose death she had caused. Words, _his_ words echoed through her head, and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to keep her screams from escaping.

 _'It's your fault he's dead, little bird,_ Malfoy had hissed through the door. _Don't think even for a moment that you've gotten rid of me, pet, because I'll be back for you.'_


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the HLB series will be uploaded soon.  
> All pertaining to the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

Draco stared unflinchingly into the cold, menacing face of the Dark Lord who sat before him on a grand throne. The other man's red eyes were fixated on himself. There was approval in his dark, unhuman eyes.

Could he even be called a man? Draco wasn't sure. They were alone in the large room, the dark, stone-walled room that his Aunt called her parlor.

The Dark Lord's thin lips twisted to bare his teeth in what Draco supposed was meant to be a smile.

"Ah, Draco," he hissed. "My protégé." Draco felt revulsion at the pride in the snake man's voice, but his face remained expressionless.

"My Lord," he said quietly, bowing.

"You have served me well, my boy. Very well indeed. I knew you would not disappoint me, and I was right. Lord Voldemort is always right," he rasped, looking down imperiously on the young man before him.

"Of course, my Lord," Draco mumbled. _Liar, he thought. You expected me to die in the attempt._

"You have ridden me of one of my greatest foes, the most annoying and persistent obstacle in my quest for power, and you shall not go unrewarded. There is great potential in you, young Draco," the Dark Lord said, baring his teeth once more.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"I offer you the highest position. You will be my right-hand. You will be able to help myself track down the Potter boy and plot out this approaching war. Whatever you wish shall be at your disposal."

Draco did not flicker an eyelid through the offer. None of it appealed to him-his mind, his very being was set on one thing. Acting out the humble servant, he raised his eyes and carefully yet confidently met those of the Dark Lord.

"I am honored, and I thank you for the offer, my Lord, but I must decline. I'm afraid I only desire one thing and one thing only."

Voldemort seemed only slightly surprised at Malfoy's refusal.

"And what do you desire, Draco? You do not wish to join my ranks and become a Death Eater?"

"No, my Lord. And I want Granger."

"Granger...Potter's Mudblood friend?"

"The same."

Voldemort leaned back in his chair, forming his hands into a steeple.

"Ah, yes, I remember your request. I gave you permission to take her, boy, should she not be with you?"

Draco's jaw clenched. "I'm afraid she got away, my Lord. Weasely and Potter intervened, and she caught me unaware."

"Yes, I've been told the little Mudblood is exceptionally clever. But you must be cleverer if it is your will to capture her, young Draco." A glint of amusement shone in the Dark Lord's eye. Draco bristled but kept his tone polite.

"She is the only thing I desire, my Lord. I shall do what you ask of me, but I do not wish to become a Death Eater. If I capture her then we will obtain more knowledge on the Order and Potter. She could be a valuable asset to our side, my Lord." Draco kept his voice detached and cool, but made sure not to break his eye contact with the other man.

He was not afraid of him, and Voldemort knew it. Draco wasn't entirely sure if this displeased him or amused him, but he knew it would gain his respect, however.

The Dark Lord considered this appeal for a moment, fingering his wand as he thought.

"Very well, young Draco. You have your wish. Capture Miss Granger. I fear it may take a while, now that Hogwarts security has been heightened and surely she will be very strongly protected over the summer. Your only chance is once she returns for her seventh year. You must find a way to either breach the protection around the school or find a way to lure her here. I leave it up to you."

Draco bowed again. "Thank you, my Lord."

He walked out of the room at a brisk pace. Once he was outside, he turned and apparated to outside the gates of the Malfoy manor. He walked right through them, vaguely wondering where his father was, and entered the mansion. He waved away the House Elf that appeared once he entered and strode through many ornate halls and elegant rooms to find the one he was looking for.

Finding the door at last, he stopped completely, grasping the crystal doorknob gently as he pushed the door open. He silently made his way to the bed, and sat down on the chair beside it.

She lay on her side, facing him with her hands clasped in front of her above the sheets as though in prayer. Her long hair had been tied into a simple braid that fell down her back, over the high collar of her night gown. A light sheen of sweat coated her face, which held a pained expression even in slumber. Her breathing was labored.

His heart ached. How had this happened? He never should have left her in this condition. Guilt flooded through him, weighing him down. Unable to hold back any longer, he reached out and gently took her hands, rubbing his thumbs over her dry skin.

"Mother," he whispered.

Her eyes flew open at once, settling on him through her sleepy haze. She stared, drinking him in.

"I've come home, Mother," he said, and she smiled.

* * *

Draco shut the door quietly behind him, not wanting to wake her again. Frowning, he set off for a different room this time; his own. His thoughts took on a darker path as he made his way through his home.

Hermione had been in his grasp- had she not struck him with that book, she would be here now, begging for mercy underneath him as he thrust into her. He rubbed his cheek, where the bruises and his broken nose had been healed. He would make her pay dearly for that little stint.

Opening his door, he strode into his room and took the object out of his pocket, placing it onto his desk. Her scarf-the very same one he'd tripped her with. He fingered the soft blue material before he walked over to the double French doors that overlooked the grounds.

He could see her clearly in his mind, as though she were in front of him, sitting at her window seat, whistling softly as she knitted a hat. He recalled various images of her: her straining to reach a mug from the top shelf of a cupboard in their little kitchenette, her round, plump bottom demanding his attention. The way she made a little humming noise every time she yawned, how she had a habit of humming to herself as she ran her hands through her hair as she read when she was at the library, the way she had danced with him at the Yule Ball. The feel of her body beneath his, the way her breasts had felt in his hands, the warmth of her lips.

No doubt she'd be tucked away into hiding over the summer with Weasely and pathetic Potter. He smirked, remembering what he'd told him before he'd left. He would have paid dearly to see how shewould explain that to him.

He'd have to wait until September to formulate a plan to catch his elusive little bird. It angered him that he would have to wait so long to acquire what was rightfully his, but the Dark Lord was right. It would be near impossible to grab her over the summer.

Plus, the chase gave him something to do. How he loved a good hunt.

Draco grinned. You _can't escape me forever, little bird._

This girl-with the deep, beautiful eyes and bright smile; with the skilled hands and wild, flowing hair, with the quiet sensuality and loud innocence was his, and he would make sure of it.

Soon.

 **Fin**.


End file.
